So... let's have story time.
Once upon a time there was a young woman studying for her Master of Journalism degree. She was determined, focused and had a lot of time on her hands.
Then, the lady became a mother. Through two weeks of touch and go hospitalization, she endured. Her family sat at her bedside (skipping Christmas during their prayerful vigil). When finally released just before New Year, she was a mess. Months of home nurse care, fatigue, and pain followed.
Now, that baby she had is a flourishing three year old. She's intelligent, artistic and active. And mom? She's exhausted!
And on her 26 birthday, she was horrified by a photo of herself blowing out candles. Personal trainer to the rescue, gym membership pronto. Results? Slowly getting her groove **ahhem** figure back.
So... throwing aside the sleepiness, she ventured out on New Years at the insistence of a newly divorced friend. A party - advertised as being one with people of our age and class (AKA have jobs) - turned into a leery apartment festival of underdressed, underage women and four or five intoxicated men. Excuse me for being a bit turned off by these usually professional but able to chill on a holiday folk.
On the bright side, the woman looked fine when she stepped into that apartment. Hair flowing down her back, clothes bright and fresh, make up flawless. Yes, this was the woman of college years back from the coma she'd been in for years.
Once upon a time there was a young woman studying for her Master of Journalism degree. She was determined, focused and had a lot of time on her hands.
Then, the lady became a mother. Through two weeks of touch and go hospitalization, she endured. Her family sat at her bedside (skipping Christmas during their prayerful vigil). When finally released just before New Year, she was a mess. Months of home nurse care, fatigue, and pain followed.
Now, that baby she had is a flourishing three year old. She's intelligent, artistic and active. And mom? She's exhausted!
And on her 26 birthday, she was horrified by a photo of herself blowing out candles. Personal trainer to the rescue, gym membership pronto. Results? Slowly getting her groove **ahhem** figure back.
So... throwing aside the sleepiness, she ventured out on New Years at the insistence of a newly divorced friend. A party - advertised as being one with people of our age and class (AKA have jobs) - turned into a leery apartment festival of underdressed, underage women and four or five intoxicated men. Excuse me for being a bit turned off by these usually professional but able to chill on a holiday folk.
On the bright side, the woman looked fine when she stepped into that apartment. Hair flowing down her back, clothes bright and fresh, make up flawless. Yes, this was the woman of college years back from the coma she'd been in for years.
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