I'm definitely like...

...French Pastry.

Yum, amiright? 

So hubby and I got into a convo about my writing this eve.

Nothing bad, just talk. We do that sometimes. I guess they say that this is a normal thing that married couples do, right?

Anyway-while talking he commented constructively that sometimes the way I write doesn't actually sit well with an everyday reader. He's honest and observant and that's precisely one of the reasons I married his fine ass.
But that said...

Hmm.

Yeah, I can dig his input.

But...I did also tell him what he already knew.
I don't care. 🤷

You see, I write for me. And I write exactly how a conversation with a friend normally goes. Like I am literally sitting with my BFF or my husband having coffee and telling her or him about my life, or my day-as it were.
I write in my real voice.

Which has been called many descriptive terms.
Abrasive
Loud
Truthful
Scary
Negative
Self-defeating, deprecating, esteem-lacking.
Bold

And I could go on for literally days.

The point here we circle back to is this...I make zero apologies for it. I use the word FUCK as often as a two-dollar hooker. I am vulgar. I am crass. I am true.

That last word wasn't what you expected, was it?

Gotcha!

Yes, true. True to the person I grew up to be.
I can be all of those negative things, sure. And it's especially true when I write...But, I can also be the persona that screams "proper chick" when I need to be.
Shrek says...he's like an onion. And I got to thinking about that-
I'm kinda more like a croissant. Many layers-a bit flaky-and filled with butter and fat.

Tasty.
**Sorry I had to.

Look, in a conversation with a person do you prefer the bland, garden-variety depth?
Or do you like it with something a bit more interesting? You know...everyone likes to raise their eyebrow occasionally.
I am the consummate eyebrow raiser.

How bout'that? 

And don't for a second act like that doesn't pique your interest to some degree.  Life is boring enough...and I am anything but boring. Especially when I write.
For instance, I like coffee...I like the taste of coffee black, even though I typically drink it with cream and raw sugar.
I think, you have to take my writing like a cup of coffee...when it's dark...it's a little bitter and hot-but tastes great despite its harshness.
Or, sometimes you can add a little cream and sugar and make it a little lighter on the palate-but also then...appreciate that you can have it either way.
Easy enough, right?
That gives you some perspective on how to handle it. Or don't...whatever.

The thing is, my voice is what makes me unique. Even when I say something ridiculously stupid or uncouth.
And the world is full of drones who follow lines, like ants.
I don't like insects. Period.

I prefer to be like rich, buttery, sexy, filling, delicious French pastry that tastes great alone, or covered in decadent raspberry jam-or chocolate-yes!

I don't have quite enough cacao to cover my girth (quick...erase that from your head right now before it requires trepination (yes, it's a thing...look it up)

But seriously-I'm making no apologies for this entry, any other one, or any other thing I have written...I do it for me, and because it's cathartic, and because it screams ME.

And as the saying goes...

Yeah, and there's that odd sense of humor too. It's probably because I am smarter than you. 

Hey, I'm fat...I had to have some qualities. You don't get them all. ;)

So, read me or leave me. That won't change. 

If you are waiting for that to happen-see below-

(How rude!)

And I'll just be over here, raising eyebrows and waiting for my jam. 

XOXO, 

Pillsbury Dough-girl.