I’m still giggling over last night’s surreal events. So what changed to bring the horny boys my way? Mostly…nothing. Yeah, I mean, I went out just to have fun with my girl, J. Wasn’t thinking a thing about men.
My hair? Up in a french braid. Not even a stellar braid. Hair totally pulled off my face. I never let people see me like that. Not in public.
My pants. The ones I haven’t been able to fit into for a year. After the last three days of kind of being an eating machine, I was dread to try on ANY pants…even the ones that have started to kind of fall off me. But ever brave, I grabbed the jeans from the box in the corner (yes, living out of boxes and suitcases sucks especially since I can’t find my eyeliner pencil sharpener) and began to pull them on. I fully anticipated having to squeeze into them and be disappointed that I couldn’t zip them. Nope. Up they went. Up the zipper went. With ease. And there’s actual give in the pants everywhere. Yay!
What else was different? I guess my eye makeup. My black eyeliner was out (see above missing pencil sharpener) and so I opted for the purple. No big.
I guess what changed the most was how I looked at myself and how comfortable I felt in my own damn skin. It was a good feeling. And it wasn’t meant for anyone else but me. I wanted to feel happy and I was. I guess it transmitted to others.
It’s the only explanation I have.
That and a chemical spill somewhere nearby.