I am a woman. I am beautifully imperfect and oh, so flawless. I feel and speak before I have one second to process or to think. I cry over commercials and compare cereal brands. I walk up and down the Stop & Shop aisles. All of them. I drink too much tea and constantly need coffee. One bottle of wine is never enough. I drink too much. I'll tell you no matter what--I weight too much. I'd buy every shoe and things that remind me of you. I care for children that aren't mine. I am always a mother. And love like you can't imagine. So much--you literally cannot fathom. I am scared. I am always scared. The AC makes me chilly. I am always too cold. I'll turn into my mother, fearing getting old. I love little black dresses and most things pink. I think doves fly when I sing. I sing to every song on the radio, good or bad, with a beat always stuck in my head. But I suck at karaoke. I flinch at bees and won't kill a spider. And I'll cry some more. I cannot commit to whatever it is I want for dinner. Thai, Chipotle, fast food or vegetarian-ism. I've definitely been too tired and faked an orgasm. I collect pretty adorable stationary notes, feed the ducks and laugh at my own jokes. My stories ramble without some sense. I breathe in deep and sometimes, I'll forget too pay rent. I talk entirely too fast. I make lists on pieces of paper I'll lose. I'll regret my decision as soon as I choose. I obsess if I am not quickly distracted. I'm so easily lost and distracted. I loathe Hello Kitty. I crave a good old fashion mystery. I hate that I love a surprise. There will never be enough chocolate or "only one fry." I hold on to old clothes that don't fit. Until clean-up day, when I go to donate it. I thoroughly enjoy the rewards of community service, but I hate the announcement when others publicize it. I do not Instagram--but take a pretty mean selfie. I like getting news before others have a chance. I am prone to silly random acts of dance. (It's not good.) I fall under episodes of insomnia. I walk with clumsy grace--my head held high and the biggest smile on my face. I'm too stubborn to know any better. I need the last word to forever. I passionately feel like the oceans: in repetitive waves of powerful grace. Talking about sex is certainly in my place. I am sexy. I am free. I am comfortable in my own sexuality. Learn to love me, or baby, leave me. I can make you feel entirely alive--dancing carelessly wild. I have red hot cinnamon passion, hate marshmallows and need romancing. Prince Charming is Mr. Darcy. I don't know a thing about stick shift, will someone teach me? I don't have too much pride to change a tire. Or push my own car out of the snow. Whoops, here I go... I know nothing about bourbon, scotch or whiskey--but I know tequila makes me very frisky. I breathe too loudly at night and will hog all the covers. Sometimes I lack common sense. I believe happiness is the warmth of sunshine on your face. My eyes burn bright brown in the light. I don't believe in giving up, without one hell of a fight. I'm tougher than I get credit for. I'm so hard to read--but baby, you see right through me. I am everything. I live in utter madness. I thrive in chaos. I am always under some stress. I care too much--you have no idea. I am terribly insecure but I've never been so sure: I am woman.