Friday, October 16, 2009

What a Difference A Break Makes

Since the "fall" at work at the end of July (sometimes I refer to it as "the accident"), I have not been hit on. Not once. This is an odd confluence of probably dumb luck and decreased self-esteem, but in spite of the fact that I have continued to shrink in my clothes and eat less due to stress, I still don't get hit on.

I still feel, quite literally, lame.

And I feel, very suddenly, old.

So I find myself not caring about "hiding" things anymore. If no one is looking, then who cares if I wear something tighter than normal? Who cares if I stretch in the sun on the beach? WHO'S LOOKIN' ANYWAY?

It all comes down to this--if a posture or article of clothing accentuates feminity in this City, will it still have an impact? Or, like a tree falling in the woods without an audience, is it soundless?

Sort of opens me up to all kinds of freedom, right?


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