This is Thirty-Nine with Amye Archer

Day 356: A Love Letter to My 30’s

You were the decade that made me a wife. Again. A better wife this time. This time I knew better than to throw the dishes against the wall....

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Day 302: Bye, Felicia.

I have written a million poems about my body. How she couldn’t stay in her lane, fit in her assigned container, listen to directions. How...

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Day 225: Sequoia Sempervirens

As I stand at the base of “The Giant,” a near three-hundred footer, I can think of nothing but our girls. How they swam to us against...

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The Shot and The Draw: Teenage Heartbreak

I still remember the feeling of my first heartbreak. I’m not talking about –you’re over there and I’m way over here-heartbreak,...

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Day 218: Cumulonimbus

My daughter’s eyes are swollen and puffy-popped pink with 85% pollen and 15% heartbreak. The boy who has been calling her his for the...

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Day 156: On Knowing the Nine Justices. On Becoming a Feminist.

When I was 13, I let a boy violate me. I let him. Because I thought that was the only way he would love me. When I was fourteen, I let a...

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Day 90: The Atomic Weight of Guilt

As a child, you lay on your father’s belly while the New York Yankees run bases on a small black and white television in your old...

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Day 79: Birthdays

I get older; you get older. That’s how this works. My legs are healing. Bright pockmarks of red and white mark where the surgeon’s...

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Day 42: Various Positions

For Leonard I’ve seen this room, and I’ve walked this floor. You know, I used to live alone before I knew you. The ceilings in my...

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The Fat Girl’s Guide to (not) Getting Pregnant

Step One: Want it. For years, I imagined Emily following me around with a blanket in her arms like Linus from the Charlie Brown cartoons....

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The Universe Between Us

Alone, I am a star burning against the night sky. I am lost in a blanket of darkness, a heaving illuminated mass threatening to collapse in...

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I F*cking Hate My Body

Excerpt from the memoir Fat, Girl, Skinny I fucking hate my body, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t. I buy dresses, hike them up...

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