Anonymous

I had grown to learn that fighting=love. I was dead wrong.

It’s real sticky-wicked to have your body become unpredictable and tortuously painful. So here I am. Homeless. Meditation is my medication.

It was all going well . . . until the SWAT team arrived.

This article first appeared on Mamamia and has been republished with perm

Yelling. Throwing things. Name-calling. The only thing that holds me back from calling my teenager’s behavior abuse is that they are my child.

I don't recall meeting my first love. It seems he was always with me.

That’s part of the problem, I think. I keep waiting for my sexual partners to figure out how to bring me to orgasm.

My fiancé proposed with a cubic zirconia or, as some people might say, ‘a fake diamond’. I said yes and let him slide the $500, 2.5 carat extravaganza on my hand.

What do you do when you have no choice on how you get to work?

In my checkered past, long before I was a member of the PTA, I sometimes worked behind the scenes in X-rated films