Loud-mouthed liberal feminist. Anarchist knitter. Tequila-drinking artsy-smartsy fat chick. Bluesy folk-rock singer-songwriter. Rebel with too many causes. Quirky eclectic pagan poet. Paradoxical intuitive smartass. Sarcastic brainiac insomniac. You know, for starters.


Two things.

First: John McCain is a wankity douche-tastic talkingpointsgibberish-spewing bag of barely coherent and disastrously-unsuited-for-the-presidency special-interest-loving two-faced weasely asshole of a politician. I viscerally DETEST that man, and I'm insulted on behalf of the American political process (which says a lot, since I don't think it's some unsullied snow-white field of innocence and buttercups) that he is likely to get more than a token percentage of electoral votes. Obvy, I broke my promise to myself to stop watching debates and political coverage. Much to the detriment of my blood pressure. Help me pranayama!

Second: Today, I love my body. I loved it when I woke up this morning and lavished it with jasmine-a-licious Lush goodies. I loved it when I wore my fave hooded pullover sweater. I loved it when I walked around downtown in the rain, I loved it every time I took a break from the paper-pushing for a good stretch and yawn, I loved it when I fed it lots of water and eggs for breakfast and fried green tomatoes at lunch and faux chicken nuggets for dinner. I loved it when it was carrying five bags of groceries half a block from the Whole Foods, and also when I gave up and hailed a cab to carry them the rest of the way home. I loved it just the way it is: tall, fat, a little creaky sometimes since I hit 30, and so very perfectly itself.

In conclusion, because I love my body, I am going to try reallyreallyreally hard not to watch any more political crap on the telly.

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