Pretty used to be my thing. That gives me something in common with most teenage girls, I guess. Except, no; I was just a little bit prettier than the norm. So it reads like a Shakespearean tragedy to think that less than ten years later I would be lying face down in a pool of my own tears, covering my fourteen month old stretch marks with a towel and screaming from the pain of failure. I...

This post is dedicated to my beautiful, tree-like husband….even if he doesn’t think he is beautiful.
It seems I married a sapling….a new believer who was cut down, right and left, by anything that sought to destroy. Years one through three it was the big things, cheating of course being the biggest, but there were other things as well.

I read somewhere awhile back that “women marry men hoping...