At forty-one and hovering at my heaviest, I took my shirt off in an exercise class for the first time the other day. I think I'd always been waiting for some level of thinness or abs or permission before I did that, but I was feeling strong and more fully me that day in my head, so I thought why the fuck not. Also, hot yoga is 102 degrees and clothing feels like additional punishment, AND there was a woman very much taller and more sausage-shaped than myself in just her sport
Ok, so let me start by saying that this movie is 50x funnier and better than it needed to be. It could have been hokey and horny af and we all still would have shown up to watch Sandra Bullock and Channing Tatum romp and smooch around a jungle, but it is LEGIT hilarious and the emotional moments are genuine. The premise is silly - a romance writer and her book cover model end up kidnapped/lost in a jungle trying to find a treasure and escape from bad guys- but if you plug in
I spent most of my life NOT crying, because I so badly did not to be the sad kid. After having a sister born with Down Syndrome who was diagnosed early in life with leukemia and then passed away when I was in middle school, I determined did not want to be the sad bastard who was always in tears. Plus, I didn't want to put my sadness on my parents, or anyone else, so I buttoned that shit down.
I witness people crying a lot; I was a social worker in free clinics and in hospit