Finally, it’s my turn to blog. I’m wearing my brand new slut clothes. I’m wearing a white satin tube top (two sizes too small), a tight, scarlet skirt four inches below the treasure box and thong panties. All this is accessorized with five inch cherry stiletto heels, ruby red lipstick, and a clunky garnet necklace and bracelet set. I’ve got my hair bleached and teased to within an inch of its life. But my pride and joy are the long, dangling fake ruby earrings given to me by my boyfriend, Billy-Bob. Or was it Bubba?
If the above paragraph you gave you a picture of what I look like as a slut, you know why I’m a writer. I’m really a middle-aged great-grandmother who slops around in sweats. I’ve got gray hair, sagging boobs, and a great imagination. I write because it allows me to be whatever I want, go anywhere in the Universe and perform deeds that defy belief. And if I’m lucky, I get paid for it.
But even when I didn’t sell, writing to me was like breathing. I once stopped writing and couldn’t understand why my life was so depressing. Thanks to a Parents Without Partners friend, I discovered without my writing, my life just sucks pond water. (Thanks, Les!) And since I joined together with other people who share my love of words, understand what it’s like to have multitudes of characters crowded in their heads, life is even sweeter.
So I’m hoping you’ll join us here on the blog and come often. You’ll find words of wisdom, provoking thoughts, and, if you’re real lucky, you’ll catch me on the day I’m wearing my Vulcan Vestal Virgin robe. Isn’t that intriguing?
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