I look around
I find myself taking inventory
I am not stylish, I am wearing pants I bought six years ago and a hand-me down sweater.
I have no flashy jewelry not even a damn watch
Growing my hair for Cancer is not glamorous. I should be able to free myself with ten inches of hair next month; It is not flowy like the Breck girl. It is heavy.
I am not as thin as some. I am not as thin as I could be.
I am not saddened by the realization.
Just taking inventory