Saturday afternoon. Following my very late arrival home the night before, a classic curfew argument ensues. My mother refuses to wait up past 2 a.m. I say she doesn't need to. After all, I am 19. I've survived my freshman year at college. I'm old enough to handle myself now. We're briefly interrupted by the mail delivery. I pick it up, sulking. Health insurance bill. Retirement newsletter. Credit statement. Mortgage information. Sorting out my Vogue, I hand the rest to my mother and silently thank God I still have a few years left to grow up.

Alicia Cagnoli


Watching two stunning, adorable teenage girls walk by one day, I lamented to my longtime friend, Suzanne: "Why is it that when I was slender and cute like that, I didn't realize it? I should have enjoyed it. I wasted so much energy worrying about the wrong things." "Well, I'm sure that a lot of people told you that you were attractive, but you argued with them," Suzanne replied, adding, "You're attractive now." "Oh, please!" I scoffed. "Just look at me." She shook her head knowingly and said, "Nothing has changed in 30 years."

Libbye Morris


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