A new friend of mine showed me a picture of herself back in 1980 or so, wearing a biker jacket, rocking bleached, spiky hair, a safety pin in her ear, and a practiced sneer. Naturally, we had to start comparing punk rock notes. She had lived in London back in the day, as a college…
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My butt has it in for me. First of all, since I had my baby it has flattened into the shape and consistency of a pair of week-old, dried-out pancakes. And not silver dollars, either–those gigantic, ottoman-size ones you see on episodes of Man vs. Food. You know how people say “She has an ass…
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