A man is getting into the shower just as his wife is finishing up her shower when the doorbell rings. The wife quickly wraps herself in a towel and runs downstairs. When she opens the door, there stands Bob, the next door neighbor. Before she says a word, Bob says, “I’ll give you $800 to drop that towel.” After thinking for a moment, the woman drops her towel and stands naked in front of Bob. After a few seconds, Bob hands her $800 dollars and leaves. The woman wraps back up in the towel and goes back upstairs. When she... Read more »
•See that boy doing his homework in homeroom? ... He couldn't do it last night because he was too busy talking his best friend out of suicide. •See that girl, with her face caked in make up? ... She's bullied, she needs to feel beautiful. •She him, the one who wears long sleeves everyday? ... He covers his arms to hide the scars. •See her, with the cheap, hand-me-down clothes? ... Her family can't afford food for half the month, let alone get brand names. •See the girl who laughs and smiles at every little thing? ... She cries herself... Read more »
Back when I was very small, and we had this bathroom with these sort of paneled mirrors on the side. And I would just sit there - because it was the only warm room in the house. And I would - if I was in a bad place - I would go to my imaginary place with these mirrors, and create this entire other world to sort of help level out what I was dealing with.
She blinked, sat up, and saw Chris in the bathroom doorway. He'd just gotten out the shower. His hair was damp, and he was dressed only in his briefs. The sight of his thin, boyish body - all ribs and elbows and knees - pulled at her heart, for he looked so innocent and vulnerable. He was so small and fragile that she wondered how she could ever protect him, and renewed fear rose in her.
I like to drop in on people who picked on me in high school or whatever, just out of the blue, and chat with them to see how they think of me now that I'm a big star. Usually they're a lot nicer. After about half an hour, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, and leave a few DVDs or pictures there. Then when I come out, I say good-bye and leave. Then I call the cops.
Love is a cognitive, willful act. Feelings have very little to do with it, particularly around three o'clock in the morning when the baby needs changing or somebody has "lost it" before getting to the bathroom to throw up.
The women in labor must have NO STRESS placed upon her. She must be free to move about, walk, rock, go to the bathroom by herself, lie on her side or back, squat or kneel, or anything she finds comfortable, without fear of being scolded or embarrassed. Nor is there any need for her to be either 'quiet' or 'good.' What is a 'good' patient? One who does whatever she is told-who masks all the stresses she is feeling? Why can she not cry, or laugh, or complain?