When someone comments on my weight, I have to work hard to stand in front of the mirror and say, “This is who you are. You’re okay in this lady, and you’re a great, healthy, lovable and loving person.” I try to accept myself.
I’d always admired writers. I’d always loved words on a page. Somehow, words seemed to bypass image and get straight to the heart of things. Somehow, words seemed big enough to contain pain, and sentences could pull broken bits together.
To give them what I never had heals me. Some days I look at them and almost start to cry. I think, How can I love them more than I did the day before? But it keeps growing.
I think that that’s always been a real talent of mine is to be able to spot somebody who has that thing that is so non-definable, that thing that I wish I possessed.
The words of musicals were the moral codes that I lived by. I found meaning and messages in musicals that I didn’t find in churches or school books and it really made me come alive in a way.
