How I sucked my stomach in to do up my pants this morning...

This was the post I wanted to write. Or one post of many that I start drafting in my head in anticipation of getting some keyboard under my fingers. The others have blown clear away because I had my hands full or my courage empty. I long to put my opinions out into the world. As if it legitimises me. I exist. I have thoughts. Surely everyone wants to know my rating for local restaurants or what I thought of the hunger games, among other fascinating random things I might have posted lately. Or my strong feelings on small topics. The ones that don't have hipster cache. Like the sanctity of the infant gut. Or my lay understanding of feminism. The one that peeks around my Cinderalla skirt upbringing. I played with barbies and now I am horribly conflicted. And one day soon you might read all about it. When I blog, or birth the writer within. Or just have my hands free and my pants on.