The real me!
Ok, NOT to go all rose colored glasses, hippy dippy, glass half full optimistic on you cuz clearly, with the way I’ve been lately, you’d think this blog had been hijacked, but I’ve been doing some thinking….
Last night, I rolled into my driveway and took out my gorgeous erin condren planner that I ordered for myself at the end of last year to celebrate a new beginning after I made my first appointment with the therapist . Still sitting in the car while Ben caught some extra z’s in the backseat, I went through the entire year, writing down every Sunday what my “goal” is, basing it on a 2lb./week average. I can hear you doing the math in your head. Stop. Just stop. It’s ugly. And it doesn’t matter, anyway because it’s over.
All my life….at least since that awkward age when I became aware of fashion and style and aware of how painfully I was lacking, aware of how I was always taller than the other girls, in the back row of class pictures and the drill team, aware that my best friend in high school who stole all the boys I liked from me was tiny and cute and weighed 100lbs and I….did not….ever since then, though I was never able to execute it, I knew there was a style that belonged to me. I knew it belonged to me, because my mom pulled it off so effortlessly and she? In case you didn’t know, was perfect. She reminded everyone of Goldie Hawn, Kate Hudson…she had an effortless, ethereal, boho vibe before it was the thing to have. She had boxes and boxes of jewelry that I now own that sits in my closet because I don’t feel cool enough to wear it.
So, I’m working on a project. A project of utmost importance. A project to find the real me. She’s in there. And she's just like her mother. I can see her, barely, but she’s there, peeking out from underneath a pile of shitty clothes from kohl’s, a bag of Doritos and a venti caramel frappucino, extra whip. She's wearing a white gauze maxi skirt, sandals, some funky tie dye, racer back camisole, a couple of delicate necklaces of varied length. She's carrying a floppy hobo bag that doesn't quite match with a wrist full of string, leather and gold bracelets, hoop earrings, big sunglasses, a perfect tan and a smile on her face.
And she is scheduled to arrive sometime shortly after the holidays, which, admittedly seem very, very far away, but it’s just a year. just one, little year till I get to meet her and I haven’t been this excited since I was waiting to meet my son.