At some point in the last few years, I turned into a wussy.
Super Wussy.
It's like the super hero power that no one wants, but at least one person in the super hero clan has to have it.
The Super Wussy super hero is like the weird cousin that would go and visit the Brady's and something f'ed up always happened when he was around.
This particular Super Wussy (raises hand) has let an 'issue' with a friend eat at her for a while.
This issue is not life or death....but...it has been poking at me like an annoying tag in the back of my shirt.
The old, non Super Wussy me, would have just spoken up, said what she had to say and then let it go.
Super Wussy Tamara? She sat at home, ate ice cream and pouted. And at the moment smells a little bit like chocolate.
At least Super Wussy smells good...
Maybe I can get Baskin & Robins to sponsor me if I agree to put a big B&R on the back of my cape?
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