Hey listen I know you’re just about as busy as the person in charge of keeping Victoria Beckham waxed and all but if you could find it in your schedy to remind me of my majestic parts I’d be forever indebted. And I’m not talking about Nobel Peace Prize winning or Astronaut To the Moon Riding kind of stuff—I’m just talking about those days when I wake up feeling full of light and I am able to carry that through until at least late afternoon. Or when I am able to carry on a loving conversation with my mother without taking the bait she propels out to me like some smarmy fly fisherman. I’m talking about how I wiggle into my majestic strength and serenity. How, at certain times, I am capable of letting the storyline go and I just drift along, unencumbered by grief or anger or resentment or tumult. Can you remind me of this? Can you help me notice those times when I am a heavyweight in my own corner, ready to take on the next challenge like some weightless angel in search of something plain and gorgeous, thank you amen you may be seated.
Yours In Selfie Selfersonism,
Teresa Tries Very Hard