On loving your body like it’s a 1994 Dodge Caravan
We entered the car dealership as a family on a mission. The soles of our shoes stuck to hot asphalt as we toured the grounds, looking to buy a minivan. The nondescript gray one, with automatic transmission and no personality whatsoever, fulfilled our objective. The salesman who greeted us didn’t know what to do with a woman looking to buy a car with cash, but my mom persuaded them not to put my dad’s name on the title. It wasn’t his mission, but hers. This was after Anita Hill, before Spice...
