GIRLS SIZE 6 and SMALLER

Is anyone truly happy with their bodies? With all these anorexic-like models and fad diets around, I would have to say no. It's a total mind f*ck, to say the least, since all these fashion magazines and marketing gurus dictate how we should look and dress. I guess we've all fallen prey to it at some stage in our lives. These businesses will always find other flaws for us to focus on - like aging for instance -a nip here, a tuck there - and with all the insecurities people have about themselves we will always be preyed upon as they run to the bank. No I am not a size 6 or smaller, but I know so many girls who are, and all they complain about is getting fat, starving themselves and needing to diet. I want to tell these girls, SHUT UP and eat something. I am anywhere from an 8 to 10 depending on the designer. In the modeling world, I would probably be considered a plus size model, if I modeled. As one becomes older, maintaining becomes way harder and all the more crucial. So I try to eat wholesome, healthy foods and hit the gym at least 4 times a week. For me, it all boils down to discipline and moderation...I'm a big girl with a big appetite...so pass me that sandwich and I'll burn it off later!

STOP THAT ALREADY!

Okay, what's up with people who are in such a hurry that they have to use the emergency exit doors and set off the alarm? It's fast become an epidemic. Without fail, I experience this twice everyday for as long as I have been using the subway system. If only the other things in my life were that consistent! I ask myself, do people realize that those doors have an alarm or do they do this on purpose? I bet there are repeat offenders, I wouldn't be surprised. I think they should get a shock every time those doors are pushed through. Why are people so rude to subject others to that annoying, shrilling sound that pierces right through you? Isn't it bad enough that our subway system is overcrowded and dirty - who needs the alarm ringing through the tunnels and in your ears. The morning drill is monotonous - stop it already!

MY FATHER'S DEATH 3-24-1997

My father was a fighter

But lost his battle to lung cancer

Chemo and radiation weakened his strength

But not his heart, his will was strong

He slowly deteriorated

As I slept in a chair by his side night after night

We spoke of many things; in what time we had

We knew, there was nothing that could have been done

My father cried he could bear no more

They pricked and prodded for a vein

Blood test, Blood test all routine

I broke down inside, but remained strong for him  

He was sent home Friday, and returned Monday

It was time and he would no longer fight

The whites in his eyes were yellow

He would succumb to the cancer

His lungs filled with fluid

And was gasping for air on the way to the ER

He was suffering very badly

I prayed to God, please take him from the pain

My father sat there with a tube in his side

He tried to speak, but he was breathless

He looked at me and pointed upwards…

Beyond life here, to the after life, out of here

His heart stopped, he flat lined

and drowned in his own fluid

They tried to resuscitate him, no success

Suffocated and now he is freed

My father was hauled into a cold room

His frail, lifeless body…

He lay before me dead, bruised and battered

By the cancer that took him

His body still warm, the poison stopped flowing

I leaned over, kissed him and said goodbye

But will be in my heart and my life