So you’re a reader,” My mom sighs, as if somehow this elevates Isabel to yet another realm of perfection.

I think the skin revolution for women, I will call it, really all started with Mariah Carey. Madonna was pretty risqué too, but she was pretty much always known as a "bad girl." Mariah was a good girl, supposedly Christian, turning very bad, in the late 90's. So then, all the other little girls and teens and women across America thought it would be ok for them to "come out" too essentially, or flaunt whatever they had. Modesty went completely out the window for many women, starting in the late 90's.

I have never tried to be a good person, or to appear to be a good person. What I do and what I have done is merely a side effect of my desire to become me. I have only wanted to be me; if people think I'm good, then so be it. If people think I'm bad, then so be it. But if anything, my greatest struggle is to not come across as so good. I always find myself asking, "Why do I keep on giving off this immense impression of goodness?" Can I ask the world, am I not simply allowed to be me; without needing to be classified as either good or bad? Being known as good has its own prison just as much as being bad has its jail bars. I am so tired of the need to classify people. I am me.

Every morning I sit at the kitchen table over a tall glass of water swallowing pills. (So my hands won’t shake.) (So my heart won’t race.) (So my face won’t thaw.) (So my blood won’t mold.) (So the voices won’t scream.) (So I don’t reach for knives.) (So I keep out of the oven.) (So I eat every morsel.) (So the wine goes bitter.) (So I remember the laundry.) (So I remember to call.) (So I remember the name of each pill.) (So I remember the name of each sickness.) (So I keep my hands inside my hands.) (So the city won’t rattle.) (So I don’t weep on the bus.) (So I don’t wander the guardrail.) (So the flashbacks go quiet.) (So the insomnia sleeps.) (So I don’t jump at car horns.) (So I don’t jump at cat-calls.) (So I don’t jump a bridge.) (So I don’t twitch.) (So I don’t riot.) (So I don’t slit a strange man’s throat.)

Idea lady is the ideal lady!

I don’t want to go home yet.” He twisted at the waist and patted the seat behind him. “Take a walk on the wild side with me.

Before she could ponder what on earth he meant or come up with a proper response, he took their charade a step further.He kissed her.

How old are you?”“Old enough to know better, but still young enough to do it again.

but good girls dont do that, dont make a fuss, dont upset parents. and i was a good girl so i curled up on the floor and sobbed silently instead

THE MYTH OF THE GOOD OL BOY AND THE NICE GAL The good of boy myth and the nice gal are a kind of social conformity myth. They create a real paradox when put together with the "rugged individual" part of the Success Myth. How can I be a rugged individual, be my own man and conform at the same time? Conforming means "Don't make a wave", "Don't rock the boat". Be a nice gal or a good ol' boy. This means that we have to pretend a lot. "We are taught to be nice and polite. We are taught that these behaviors (most often lies) are better than telling the truth. Our churches, schools, and politics are rampant with teaching dishonesty (saying things we don't mean and pretending to feel ways we don't feel). We smile when we feel sad; laugh nervously when dealing with grief; laugh at jokes we don't think are funny; tell people things to be polite that we surely don't mean." - Bradshaw On: The Family

I try to ignore the fact that I can feel Kieren's hard-on against my ass and that it's perfectly pressing into me. I tell my suddenly happy cunny to stop quivering with excitement. Naughty, puss, that's creepy Kieren rubbing on you. Stop purring, dammit!