Unlike men, women got less sentimental as we aged, I was discovering.

I like to imagine the "what ifs" of history.

What very mysterious things days were. Sometimes they fly by, and other times they seem to last forever, yet they are all exactly twenty-four hours. There's quite a lot we don't know about them.

Unlike men, women got less sentimental as we aged, I was discovering.

I suppose at some point, we all have to decide which memories - real or otherwise - to hold on to, and which ones to let go.

Why, then, did I always feel as if his happiness was my responsibility? It wasn't fair for him to burden me with that. It had never been fair.

Never would I allow my size to define me. Instead I would define it.