Wednesday, August 7, 2013


update:  i sort of hate this post, because it makes me sound like a plain jane, and i'm still a wild animal and a hungry heart.  but i always feel a little wimpy when i delete posts i don't like. xo robin

The past few nights I’ve had dreams that people who used to know me have just run into me and are disappointed with how I’ve turned out, both in appearance and in fate, like the fate of be being an office drone, and the appearance of a spare tire in the ol’ tummy region.  I should mention that I have an overactive imagination slanted towards the negative, but I have definitely, definitively noticed people who’ve been disappointed by me after not seeing me in a while, when it comes to medical professionals, but then again,  It’s a singular experience going to the doctor in Los Angeles, and probably in most big cities, where the class gap is so extreme.  I have normal insurance but was able to request a pretty classy medical group to choose doctors from (this medical group is supposed to have advanced technology and research regarding heart surgery and my connective tissue disorder, so that’s why I favored them), so all the doctor’s offices I visit are in Beverly Hills, where cosmetic surgery borders on being considered a medical necessity, from what I’ve noticed.  Anyway, in case you are Googling me to see what I look like these days, since my glory days in the 1990’s riot grrrl scene, or my Los Angeles nightlife glory days in the early 2000’s when I always made the mistake of ordering that 4th drink, here is me at my desk, on an average day of the week.  Tah dah.   

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