I will always ungrey Hoban Washburne. He’s a leaf on the wind.

If she told me she was actually a flower cursed by an evil witch to take human form, I would be tempted to believe her.

It was only this year that I realised that people had a social media ‘image’. Up until that point I earnestly believed that everyone I knew had perfect lives and that made me so happy, but gently puzzled as to why mine was so imperfect, then put it down to autism.

If anyone has any way to practically apply this, I'm all ears. I have this inability to stop interrupting due to excitability. I am aware of it and don't know how to change 40 years of behavior.

I was really hoping someone would be so self-involved as to turn a larger issue into an anecdote about a unique personal experience that does nothing to change any of the points made in the post. Thanks!

I’m not sure that I can possibly overstate the amount of stars I want to give this reply right now. Sadly, I can give it only one. So instead, I will also give you this:

1.) My girls are AMAZING women, if I do say so myself. Strong and stubborn and brilliant...not that I'm biased at all. </s> 2.) You are my new best friend. 3.) THANK YOU. It means a lot to me to hear that.

I’m definitely not afraid of looking my age - but I am afraid of looking afraid to look my age.

Fat AND happy here. I’m just a few years and a few pounds more than you. I love fashion and have clothing, shoes, and accessories that I love and tend to err to the side of “dressy” in most situations. I love to wear makeup and try out new hairstyles. I am also pretty outgoing and a performer. My skinny to average…

Thank goodness for this whole “dadbod” thing, because lord knows something needed to be done about society’s unrealistic demands on men.

Your body doesn’t make you sexy. You make your body sexy.

"Dadbod" is interesting, but a while back I started designating the bodies of urban middle aged men (doesn't go to the gym, not fat, not skinny,just somewhat....diminished) as "Desky".

But I'm tiiiiiiiiired...

My father, while trying to save money and not sound like a tightwad, did give me a marvelous piece of advice: Enjoy the day. Don’t get a gown you can’t walk in, can’t breathe in, and needs a bunch of attendants to hold the train and keep you from sweeping things off of tables. Don’t wear shoes that are painful or hard…

Controversial feminist opinion ahead:

Christ, no. That’s the last thing I want. I hate myself.

My father is really bad with cats; once I placed an especially sweet, kissable kitten on his lap at a family party, and his hands curled up to his chest and he whispered "Please take it off of me, I don't know what it wants."