Let Me be Free to be Lovely
Sitting in the Atlanta airport, sipping my final Starbuck's iced-soy-mocha-with-an-extra-shot-and-less-ice-and-a-pump-of-coconut for the next two months, I turned around to witness a little girl dancing on a row of airport chairs in front of a massive window facing the plane. Smiling to myself, I envied the freedom she had, to twirl and flounce about, on her own stage, knowing she was lovely. What if I, 19-year-old Betsy decided to dance on airport chairs, simply to display how lovely I am? It certainly would not be greeted with the same smiles, turned heads, and...