Strong Legs, Open Heart

The Barbie doll was blond, just like Jacqui (not her real name) who had been our friend.  And blond like the girl in Heathers who died after being tricked into drinking Drano. In the movie, that blond girl is found lying on her bed with blue lips, her hair spread out on a pillow. We’d all watched the movie obsessively at a sleepover and started styling ourselves as thirteen-year-old versions of the various Heathers. They were popular, beautiful and cruel; the villains. And yet, they were the ones we wanted to be like. Continue reading

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First Kiss (A Reprieve from the Angst)…

There’s a not-so recent NY Times article which has sat uncomfortably with me for a while.  It posits that while we generation X-ers are famously sarcastic, conflicted, inherently resentful of our self-obsessed boomer parents and dismissive of sentimentalism; we are also faced with an existential challenge:  how do we look back on the good old days without betraying our “reality bites” outlook? Continue reading