Author: Jen Busfield

Poor Kid

SEDUCE –verb (used with object), -duced, -duc?ing. 1. to lead astray, as from duty, rectitude, or the like; corrupt. 2. to persuade or induce to have sexual intercourse. 3. to lead or draw away, as from principles, faith, or allegiance 4. to win over; attract; entice ****************************************************************** The poor little guy didn’t stand a chance; and I forgot to think about my effect. I was thrilled to be at the Olive Garden this afternoon with my gal-pals. I was totally being just me, hanging with the girls, preparing to eat well. I didn’t think about how overwhelming I can be when I am purely happy: both disarming and alluring at the same time. It’s the smile, the light in my eyes; the smoothness in my voice. I don’t (often) do it intentionally; it happens naturally when I am happy, when I am the most comfortable to be me. My girls can handle it, they know what I am all about- they acknowledge my power more often than I myself am willing to acknowledge it. He was mesmerized, this little kid who was our waiter; absolutely unable to keep his eyes off me. He even dared to wink at me at one point in a high-schooler-want-to-be-Casanova kind of way (surely this kid was NOT in college). I had to reign in the happy, the Jenny. I had to be careful...

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Sexy Shoes

I went shopping with my mom today. We tackled the consignment shop arena; one in Chapel Hill and the other in Hillsborough. One of the first things I do when I go shopping is check the shoes. I have such a hard time finding shoes that fit, that are comfortable, that look good. It really is the bane of my shopping existence- the shoe thing. But I always look there first, in case….I am a hopeless optimistic. No luck in Chapel Hill. Everything was too small, too narrow; or surprisingly enough, too big. Same story for the selection in Hillsborough- or so I thought. After checking the shoes on the sales floor, I rummaged through the racks to find the amazing new additions to my closet that were just waiting for me to find them. And I found a few things that I will be rocking here and there- (have I mentioned that I LOVE consignment shops?) And then, I found it. The pile of overstock shoes. Tons of shoes that can’t fit out on the shelves on the sales floor. Shoes in all sizes. Shoes even in my side. And what are those? (Those are freakin’ sexy awesome Latina shoes- IN MY SIZE!!) Are they going to fit…nah, they will probably be too narrow. (WOW! My foot just slipped in- no problem!) Is the left shoe going to...

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The Silent Angels

They were in shock- in absolute shock- over what was taking place. Each one had been putting up a good fight for the last month or so. Not being intimidated by comments like, “Just shut up and play your harp!” (Yea, they still hear that one a lot. You’d think the other guys would find some different derogatory comments. It’s too bad they can’t transfer their evil creativity to, at least, update their insults.) Though the overall agenda was the same: walk in the light, make good choices, be selfless, love others, offer grace, etc…etc; each had its own particular plan- they were dealing with different people, of course. People they had been with since birth. And they really did have the upper hand here- all they had to do was play the consequence card. For both of them- it worked over and over again. Their charges were held at bay. And it was no matter how the other guys complained- they do that all the time anyway. And so when their charges rushed in- they couldn’t believe what they were hearing and seeing. They could barely register the snickers of success emanating from the other shoulders. They feared to follow. They couldn’t figure out how fast the circumstances had gotten out of control. These silent and astonished angels thought the same thing at the same time:...

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Evil One

She told him he was a good man. And she believed it- through and through. No matter what he was…is capable of- she was the evil one in this situation. She was under no delusion of that. She just can’t seem to separate herself from the anger, the bitterness; and knowing this has set her blood aflame- do you know what it’s like to have liquid fire running through your veins- not a good feeling. And she knows that she is perfectly ridiculous. That reparations happen; that people grow up and move on. But she can’t seem to get over herself, and his lies. Oh, yes, she is the evil one of the two in this equation. And she hopes, for both of their sakes, that she can gain control over her emotions...

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Such a Liar

I lied to them. And I know that they know that I lied. They know who they are dealing with, more than I know- my own self. And that still amazes me- that they see me that way. That they’ve missed that “me.” I’ve not seen myself that way in a long time, I thought that was gone. I’ve been trying to live “the life,” the one I thought I should be living, and as it falls down around me, I find myself wondering who I am and what I should do. Flickers and scenes of what once was, of who used to be, flash by in memories. I read about that person in journals and shake my head in wonder. Have you seen that person?! She scares me- her thirst, her passion, her crazy ways, her never-ending optimism and ambition: they are exhausting. Who the hell does she think she is anyway? Doesn’t she understand that being tame is the only way to get by? The only way to be as acceptable as possible to the larger group… She’s been close to the surface lately- biding her time for the right moment to escape and be. And then, I played into her hands: I was reckless and irresponsible in my fun; and she freed herself from me in a joyous escape. We’ve been trying to talk it through-...

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