birds in a barrel's mission is to release creative nonfiction into the wild.

40 Days & 40 Writes is its first project.

Asset? Liability? Neither.

Well. Body parts. At this stage of my life, I finally don't give a rip if I have an asset or a liability. As a teenager, I developed breasts that sere sizably larger than my high school compatriots. I didn't like the attention. I was painfully shy. I wore sweaters all year long to hide in. Sweltering mid-west summers saw me in charcoal grey wool sweaters. My mother would utter things like, "Are you insane?" Didn't matter. I have my maternal and paternal grandmother for passing big boob genes down to me. I thought of getting a breast reduction--and everyone I know wh's had one says it was the best decision they made--but it just seemed to Frankenstinian to me.

I used to have really pretty feet. Years of wearing shoes that I just had to have...whether they fit perfectly or not...changed that. Scratch feet. No pun intended.

Hair. No, not my best feature.

Hands. Not bad, but I've bitten my nails off and on for years.


Derriere. Flat. Not even close to a J-Lo tush.

So, I guess my assets all along have been two-fold. My eyes and my smile. Although, a smile is not really a body part. So then maybe it's my eyes and lips. Eyes tell so much about a person and mine practically "talk." My lips curl and twist and tilt and frown with the thoughts and expression of my eyes. Can't play poker for this very reason. My feelings and emotions play through them both. The mirror of the soul and all that.

My Father's Hands

Hands