I know this chick who reads Glamour and The New Yorker. The occasional Cosmo, and the New York Times. Vogue and Real Simple. Scrubs floors by day and wears killer glam heels by night. Dances and sings, then curls up in PJs on the couch with her boyfriend. Uses both power tools and perfume. Is both fashion-forward and well-versed in poetry, Shakespeare, and existentialism. Has years of NYC street cred to her name. Can dazzle in a job interview, an audition, the kitchen, and the bedroom alike.
She'll probably be running something big someday. She's preparing for it now. Devising strategies. Figuring out how to rid herself of the dead weight that gets in her way.
She's the total package. A Renaissance woman. Men want her. Women want to be her. Okay, women want her, too.
This blog post needs a tidy little conclusion to wrap it up. But that conclusion hasn't been written yet. It'll take a few months. Or years. Decades, even.
Check back later.
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