If I had known signing up for Zumba would be so humiliating for my daughter, I would have done it months ago. I have such fond memories of clenching my butt cheeks alongside my unitard-clad mother to Jane Fonda videos in our living room, so I honestly thought my teenager might want to take the…
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So the bag boys and girls at the grocery store have started calling me “ma’am.” Right before they ask if I need help to my car. I assume this is standard protocol and not because my high fiber oatmeal suggests I can’t manage a solo journey across the parking lot. And I’m certain the employees are…
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