I’m sexy and I know it…or at least with heels and lipstick I can be

It’s October, and the detox is officially over with a capital O. For the past several weeks I have been going back in forth between spending more time away from my house and out with friends or just clearing the mind and trying not to sulk. Or to be completely frank--wasting the night away sipping one too many cocktails and forgetting my own personality. Because it was about regrouping and finding something out of your comfort zone (s). And that personality, is me, but she was hurting and needed to get drunk and scream. And eat lots of gelato that is now making crunches so much fun.

It’s over, and god only knows I never thought these words would ever come out of my mouth. EVER. Everything is good, every day is filled and that is a sweet deal. Granted, this little period of getting back to ‘who you are’ felt like a refresher course for Calculus 405 in college, but still. It was needed for everything to be washed out of my confused mind. Which is the always present and never now ending theme.

And yet, here it is. The simple truths that are blinded behind everything and everyone around. They’re over, forgotten and forgiven.

Maybe it’s the fresh color on the hair, the tanned skin, or the red stilettos that seem to be attached to me right now because they scream ‘outrageousness is here.’ Whatever it is, it’s fully embraced and it’s about god damned time.

…or it could possibly be the writing that is amping everything up and building the excitement about potential freelancing. About penning someone else’s story which makes me not think and allows me to just go with the flow each and every single day. The chance of being able to quit a job that I do not enjoy and do something that feels right in my bones and makes my skin sing. I’m leaning toward the writing setting everything on fire. There’s no shame.

The other morning I went out for the day. Put on a cute dress, slapped on the purple heels and just went with it. Every day for the past few months, I’d been eyeing that dress, rolling my eyes at the shoes wondering why in the world it had not been worn in ages. Funk be bygones.

It’s understandable, and it happens. And you know what, you have to get over it. If you sit around and mope about it, time is still getting wasted and a chance at god only knows what could be slipping off in the distance. That dress was like a fire alarm going off inside of my head. This woman, she had partially joined the witness protection program. Though, not really because I’m not socially inverted and actually do go out, but things had been slipping off of the radar that are as much a part of me, as well anything else.

It was time. Time to clean out the wardrobe of clothes that hid a body that needed to shape up just a tad, dye the locks but steer from an emo-clad color and go with something a little on the sultry side. To wear the purple heels.

I feel like it’s been a serious complex of personal issues lately, and it has been because of reasons that will go unannounced on this forum. That’s for Dr. Drew to address and I’m still waiting for an available appointment. It is very hard to see all of the people around you and not judge yourself for your 'shortcomings' or acknowledging your accomplishments. Even so, breathing is easier today. It’s better than it was a year ago. It’s definitely easier than sixty five days ago and because of it, my heart is bigger and I’m saying adios to certain thoughts. Expectations that had quietly become my own. I’m saying goodbye to the lost hours and shouting a big hello to all of the time that lay in front.

So this is my last post on dating. On feeling down and out because honestly, a Kleenex and crappy made for TV movies can help this one. Crying with a box of sour patch kids in my lap and a crystal light stain on my lips. And taking a peripheral vision and turning it into tunnel vision and forgetting about the world that exists all around. A world that I am part of and am no longer missing out on.

Amen, to that.