Strong Women
When I was nine years old I was attacked by a Rottweiler. The last stitch on either side of the wound was inside each eyelid. The dog– aptly named Gator– missed both my eyes by an amount so small as to be immeasurable. The ER doctor heralded this a miracle and I decided, right then, that no matter what I looked like the next day I would focus on that piece of good fortune: I could still…
