As children, we looked up to our maids and our nannies, who were playing in some ways the role of our mothers. They were paid to be nice to us, to look after us, teach us things and take time out of their day to be with us. As a child you think of these people as an extension of your mother.

She's wearing a tight red sweater and a red skirt and enough makeup to scare a hooker.

Wasn't that the point of the book? For women to realize, We are just two people. Not that much separates us. Not nearly as much as I'd thought.

He let out a long sorry sigh and I love that look on his face, that disappointment. I understand now why girls resist,just for that sweet look of regret.

You're gon' have to say to your self, am I gon' believe what them fools say about me today?

Who knew paper and ink could be so vicious

I wash my hands, wonder how an awful day could turn even worse. It seems like at some point you'd just run out of awful.