my health is soaked in olive oil....?

In the spring I went shopping with a friend. We don't normally shop together and I would normally never go into American Eagle. I have mon père's voice in my head asking me why I would pay to wear a companies name. However, I wandered around in the store as she scoured the sale racks. She found a great deal on jeans, I found a men's shirt that said, "Do you want me to buy you a drink or should I just give you the money?" No, I don't take drinks or money. Yes, I was offended at all females being generally instated into life as prostitutes. It makes me suspicious and sad it could sometimes be true.

I was looking at the fruit salad in the great white bin at the grill. I had cut it and I knew its entire genetic make-up. However I found myself looking at the hotel room in Pretty Woman. The colors piled in large masses of flowery shapeless dresses. Is this fruit my tower of captivity?
I love the grill.

In seventh grade my appetite lost itself. For a girl who had always though she was fat, it is a chilling thing. The only thing to rival it is the first time I made myself throw up. I was empowered yet powerless. I didn't choose not to eat, I couldn't make myself. But it spurred on the calorie counting, the weight-loss, the binging, the purging, the terror, the self-destruction.
Thank God for redemption and love.

Mon petit, mon petit
I didn't mean to pour the wassle down your back
I had no accord
no thought
no c-major
the christmas party was blustering around me
in an all too familiar fashion
I will wash your feet

News for the world: I have a passion: documentary.
There.
The list is now two items long, people of the kitchen table conversation.
My Passions: skinny jeans and documentaries.