The Sixth Street Bridge

The Sixth Street Bridge
At the tender age of 17, I walked across this bridge, alone, into Downtown Pittsburgh, with $300 in my pocket that my mother had given me to get an abortion. I went into the Fulton Building (in the picture) and did what I was told to do. I didn't have a choice - if I did, I wouldn't have chosen abortion.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

How to Talk to Little Girls

Though not usually a fan of the Huff Post and most of the time when I visit the site it's typically to fuss and fume and leave nasty comments.  However, this time, they got something right without the usual ultra-feminist mumbo jumbo.  I'm guilty myself of negative self talk and constantly compare myself to ideals I will never obtain without a full time airbrush artist, glam squad, personal trainer, private chef and plastic surgeon.  I hope not to pass my insecurities on to my daughters.  It gets a bit more complicated with my emotional baggage from the years of teen angst (how's that for downplaying it) that follow me still, so any way I can find to counteract it in any small way is a good find for me.

I am blessed with daughters who are as smart as they are beautiful - a fantastic combination when used for good.  But, they still can use any boost possible against the onslaught of hypersexualization in their world that is only going to get worse I'm sure.

How to talk to little girls...

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