LICENSE TO SWILL wine

As my birthday approaches, (cash gifts accepted) it is time to renew my driver's license. This event always leaves me fraught with worry as I'm sure this is the year the BMV will finally catch onto me. You see, I'm not a good driver. Not only can't I parallel park, I can barely back out of the driveway without leaving a tire-sized trench on the lawn.  Obviously, my anxiety regarding this every-four-year task is greatly misplaced, as all I've ever been required to do is pass an eye exam. So, I finally decided that, this time around, I was going to be calm, cool and collected. Then, they changed the rules on me. Pass the Xanax.

Diva's Little Helper

CHEW THE FAT

When I go out to eat with my favorite women, the conversation always turns ugly. Before we've finished the salad course, we've already registered multiple complaints about the most repulsive thing we know. No, I'm not referring to Donald Trump. (Cheap joke, but I'm on a budget.) I'm talking about our bodies. Our disgust for our physical selves is so extreme, it requires an exorcism. We demand that the power of Botox compel our wrinkles be gone. We drown our faces in the holy waters of expensive creams and engage in the ritualistic waxing of the incubus that is body hair. And, don't get me started on the biggest, baddest demon of them all - FAT.  We are so possessed by FAT that the very act of looking in a mirror or putting on a pair of jeans causes our heads to spin. FAT fills us with self-loathing, while also enticing us to judge others. We can almost hear FAT whispering that it gets it's power from two of the deadly sins: Sloth and Gluttony.  Except, FAT can't talk. If it could, it would say things like, "Let me keep you warm! Is your butt comfy enough on that seat or do you need more padding?" So, if it's not FAT buzzing in our ears, telling us that it makes us ugly, undesirable, and unhealthy, who is?