Dear Joe...

It's not so much that I'm heartbroken. Let's end that dramatic phrase right now. "oh God my heart has broken. Poor me." No sweetness. My heart started cracking in like '99...when my boyfriend got us evicted and I had to live in a motel. And eat from the hot dog cart outside everyday. And pretend my life was normal. And go to work like I didnt just shower in front of 3 weird Russian immigrants who were staying on the same floor as us. My heart continued to crack in the following years. Through domestic abuse. An abortion. (funny story actually. i got kicked out the abortion clinic after the "procedure" was over, because my boyfriend at the time decided that he would pee in the garbage can in the waiting room because they wouldn't let him use the bathroom. Yes. These were the type of men I surrounded myself with.) Breaking breaking, through the years of living in Brooklyn. Getting involved with "producers","rappers", "hustl...

Let me just preface this by saying, I don't want to wear a burka. Especially seeing how summer has kicked off with a nice humid sweaty swamp ass of a day today. I appreciate my freedom to wear a dress, and have a little cleavage. But, as I look at other women walking in to work today, I am beginning to start to sympathize with the concept of the burka a little bit more. I remember reading a story about how Joe DiMaggio was completely enraged when Marilyn's infamous "skirt blowing up" scene was being filmed. How he kept storming off the set, because over 2,000 fans came to watch the scene. He hated that so many other people were seeing her body. In fact, her consistent roles of just the "sex pot" is one of the major reasons they divorced. Today walking down 52nd and Lexington where that exact scene was filmed, you could literally see someone wearing nothing but a halter top and booty shorts, and no one would look twice. All kinds of stretch marks, faded ...