Comfort…

I need to be in a place of comfort. If that be a space, a relationship, clothing and shoes, hobbies, when I sleep,  all things.

Now having said that, I do a lot of activities in the confines of my home. I dress for comfort. When I am working in my work room, honestly it is very scant. I am there in usually a tee shirt, underwear and my apron.

When I am writing, it kind of depends on what I am writing. I am trying to be tactful here so I am not going to go into much detail. Let’s just say I dress for the part.

It is part of my creative process. I need to feel what it would feel like to actually feel the part that I am writing about. It is something that makes me feel ummmm, desirable which is good when I am writing about my desires.

When I am making jewelry, I don’t worry about how I look, I wear the afore mention workroom clothing. When I am trying to promote my product, I want to look like a business woman. When I am photographing an event, I dress differently than when I am doing nature photography. When I am hiking different clothing and shoes. When I go to work the uniform. To church, dresses or skirts.

I just want to feel comfortable in what I wear, how may hair looks; currently, it has blue highlights. I have mermaid hair.

I don’t wear any of this for anyone else. I change my hair, put on makeup, dress as I wish because it makes me feel good. When I feel good, apparently it is obvious. People notice and I’m not looking to get noticed. I was actually told the other day by someone that they were watching me. Not sure what they meant by it, didn’t ask. I don’t really care anymore who is looking or watching. I am gonna do me. Blue hair and all.

It was me but I will blame the moon….

My senses have been ultra sensitive today.

I slept and when I woke up, I was hoping to have plans. I did.

I had plenty of time to put my make up on so I took my time and I enjoyed it. Usually, I am applying as I am getting dressed and grabbing the car keys with one foot out the door. I don’t take time to enjoy things.

Today, I luxuriated in doing so. I first applied my foundation. I felt the “egg” glide over my skin and watched it even everything out. The canvas has been prepared. Next the pressed powder went on. I felt the brush glide across my nose, cheekbones and my forehead. It felt so soft that I almost wondered what it would feel like on other parts of my body.

Flushed from my thoughts, I never even applied the blush that should have came next. I would let the blush of my thoughts do what it is supposed to do.

Then I felt the tickle of the eyeliner on my upper and lower lids as I applied it. They eye shadow came next. Nothing too harsh. Just enough color.

Last I applied the lipstick. I watched as I rubbed it across my bottom lip and how the  flesh of the lip shifted as I applied the dark burgundy color. Then I added it to the top lip. I closed my lips together and rubbed the lip rouge in evenly and thoroughly.

In the  mirror, I saw a reflection of someone who was feeling more than she ever admits. A woman who has set her feelings for this man on the back burner for way too long because she is afraid of what would happened if she succumbed to her desire.  I wanted to come home with my lipstick ruined and my hair messed up from where he had buried his fingers in it, pulling me closer because he couldn’t get enough.

I slid a pair of my favorite jeans over my lace undergarment and over my ample hips and a sweater that made the most of the curves I have. Some might have said it was too tight, it was comfortable.

I styled my hair just so and I put on my cowboy boots. They always give me that little air of  confidence.

We were going to look at the moon. It was something I had hinted many times I had wanted to do and due to the fact that it was supposed to be an eclipse, it was the perfect time to go.

We went to dinner first and as soon as I saw him, those feelings I was having intensified. He hadn’t even gotten in the car and I was having to compose myself. I usually have to but not to this degree.

We went to dinner and we had nice conversation. I couldn’t look at him, I knew that if I looked him in the eyes, I would lose all control I was able to maintain. I know at times I sounded like a babbling idiot. I was trying to stay focused. I was having trouble eating the main course. I did okay with the chips and salsa but I was looking at him as he was explaining something and the butterflies went into overdrive.

We talked of projects and the moon we were going to look at.

After dinner, I went and reapplied the lipstick hoping this would be that night.

We went and watched the moon for a while. We talked about the vastness of the universe and how tiny we are in the big scheme of things. We think we saw the eclipse but it wasn’t the fantastic show you think of when you think about an eclipse.

 I was laid back in my seat and I kept telling him that the moon was beautiful and how content I was. I was in paradise. I was here with the man of my dreams. In a beautiful place with that moon shining down on us and I wanted to climb him like a monkey climbing a banana tree. Sorry, maybe that was too graphic.

I didn’t but I wanted to.

Once I looked at him sitting beside me the moon shining on his face and instantly, I felt a reaction. I managed to keep my hands to myself. Dang it!

I have never felt such a rush of excitement in my life. Not even in my married life, if I am being honest. I wanted to be his and him to be mine. Right there. Right then.

Just as I was about to reach for his hand, he said we should probably start home. My burgundy lips said yes. My heart scream NO!

 I am not faulting him. I never said anything. I kept my poker face. I never let my guard down, I never made an attempt. I fault myself. I missed my chance. Dang it!

I came home and started kneading some clay that he had given me and I wondered what our touch would feel like on each others skin.

When sleep finally came. I dreamed of us. When I woke up, the feel of the sheets on my skin made me realize that all my senses were still on high. There was definitely a physical reaction to what I was allowing to happen in my mind that I would not act upon in my waking life.

I am going to blame it on the moon, but I know it was just me. Please don’t ever let this feeling go away.

Ever since….

A great number of these posts start out with no title because there are so many things roaming around in my mind and I am not sure where  I will arrive until  I get to the end. This is one of those post….I will have to work through it and see where we land. Here we go….

I am a middle aged woman, I am not a size two, I don’t have an exotic look that so many men find attractive. To most of the world, I can be one of many women. I am average.

Or so they think….

I have battled weight issues for 38 years. It started 38 years ago yesterday, the night my grandmother died. I was her favorite grandchild, I  will freely admit that. She let me get by with more than the others. I think maybe somehow she sensed that my life would not be easy once she left so she tried to make the most of the time we had together. She was diabetic. She finally died of a stroke at the age of 55. My dad woke us up in the middle of the night and told us. His exact words, as he is not one to mince words was”Your grandma died”. I remember asking which one. That is the last thing I remember. Everything including her funeral and burial, I blocked out.

You can look at my 5th grade picture and my 6th grade picture and see the change. I was eating to fill a void. I know this and yet during times of stress I will either eat everything in sight or eat nothing. There is no in between.

Having said all this, I am now for the most part comfortable in the skin I wear. I have bulges and bumps. I have fat. I have cellulite. Whatever you want to call it I have it.

It will never completely go away. If I live on lettuce and water, it will never completely go away for genetics are powerful. Large women existed on both sides of my family.

I am a woman, I carry my weight in my belly, my butt and my thighs. It doesn’t leave simply because I do not like it, so I have had to learn to like it. I am not settling, I want to be the best I can be, I have been outside exercising more in the past five years that I have in my life.

I am the woman who was married to a sick man for 10 out of 18 years of marriage. He was very mild mannered most of the time and I spent all my time fighting for him and his needs. I had to be tough, so much so that I kind of lost myself in the process. It took me a very long time to find myself.

When he transitioned, I was lost. Not so lonely as lost. Maybe some of both. I was 43, I had no clue who I was, my brain was telling me to look in the mirror;. Nobody would ever think you were attractive, nobody would ever love, desire  or want you. I stayed in a job where I was miserable just to have a place to go to every day. Nobody needed me, I had no children, no husband, what would it matter.  I had lost my passion for life. One day, I made a decision. The pain needed to stop. I knew how also but one person stopped what could have been a lethal decision. One person and eight words, I hope he still feels that way but I don’t know.  For a long time, I told nobody. I was ashamed that I had let my life get to that point.

Now at the age of 48, I finally found my voice. I finally found my courage. I found that there are still passions to be ignited in my life.

I learn new things all the time, I am finding it fun to try new things and  I feel more brave than I have in my life. I want to make all the memories I can while I can.

Today, as I was getting ready for work, I was putting on a uniform. I did something that I don’t do often, I looked at me in a semi-dressed condition.

I had on my favorite bra and panties. My hair which is finally growing back out after years of having it cut short so I didn’t have to worry about it had that sex kitten look to it, you know, how you work really hard to make it look like you didn’t  and my make up looked good. I liked what I saw. I saw a woman who is sexy, yes sexy, passionate, and braver because of what she has endured. I DID NOT see average.  It has taken me a lifetime to like this person.

Maybe one day he will look at me and forget to breathe.I hope someday he wants to run his fingers through my hair and smudge my lipstick. Initiating that, well…. I can’t do that, I am  not that brave yet, so I sit and think about what it would be like.

I sit here, in my uniform with all these thoughts in my brain, coming from a statement I made today. There was no comment in return. I honestly don’t even know why I said it, I was comfortable with him and it just kind of slipped out. This whole post came from the sentence…”My grandma has been dead 38 years yesterday and I have been battling my weight issue ever since.”

To Tell You My Story…

I am struggling with me right now and I don’t know how to deal with it. So I am dealing with it the best I can. I am turning inward, which might not be the best idea but it is what is happening.

I recently stepped out of a position due to personality conflicts. I just didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now.

There is a lot going on in my family with sickness and surgery and the people I love mean more to me than what my community “needs” from me right now. There are things I will fight for now, this was just not one of them so I stepped out. It has to be okay.

However, I am not a quitter. I feel like a quitter in this instance. I bailed. I couldn’t take the heat so I got out of the kitchen, the kitchen might have been burning down around me but I still got out. In this case I would say the kitchen was on fire when I walked in.

I know there is a difference in saving your sanity and quitting but I see it as quitting.

Maybe it’s that I feel like I have let others down. People who would not go out of their way to help me but yet I deal with the I let people down thing.

That is part of who I am. I make a commitment, I want to see it through.

After I decided to walk away, I heard a song by Big Daddy Weave, “My Story”.

It made me think about who I am. What is my story?

I was actually listening to it yesterday morning putting on my makeup. Looking into the mirror. Covering up what I see as flaws. Making the plain not so plain. It was actually what got this post brewing.

I am the girl who likes to look good, I would like for that  one  special person to tell me I look good, that’s all, just that one person.

Having said that (and feeling rather shallow doing so but feeling the need to be honest), I can also drive my SUV too fast on muddy road to get it to slide a little. I can wallow on the ground taking photos with my hair pulled back in a ponytail and be perfectly fine with that.

I like to hang out with old abandoned houses because I feel like they have a story to tell and I am supposed to keep them company and let them share their secrets with me. Then they will not be so lonely.

I like to make things. I like to work with my hands and put my mind to constructive things. I like to take what I see in my head and bring it into the real world, although, I don’t know exactly what to do with it when I get it here. I want to use what time I have here wisely and lovingly. I don’t want to waste a second not  loving and living life to it’s full potential. If I do, then I am squandering one of God’s greatest gifts.

I am fearful most of the time. Did I do this wrong? Did I say that wrong? That didn’t come out my mouth like it was in my head. Will they understand what I was trying to say? At that point I go back and try to get them to understand.  I over think EVERYTHING!!!

I can lose my temper when I feel like I am being accused or abused. When you push me hard enough, I will fight back. Yet, I will fight for those I love before I will fight for myself. They matter far much more to me than I do.

I am the girl who is terrified of silence. If I get silence, I get scared. Silence is death in my world. I know how silently death can creep in and carry people away. Rejection is also right up there.

I am far more intelligent than I give myself credit for. I do things the hard way. I fall on my face and I get up and I try again.

I am a dreamer. I have big dreams. I expect much more from myself than anyone will ever expect from me. I want to fly. I want to soar. I want to….. and I have faith that at the right time I will.

I am a woman who has desires. I don’t deny it anymore. I did at one time. I can’t anymore.

I am guarded. If you know my life you better believe you are in. It is not everybody I share my world with. You all get more insight to my life that most people who know my name.

I am strong but I have my breaking point. That is when I cry. When I start to break from the weight of the load I am carrying. I let it build up until the release valve opens and the tears start.

I hurt when I see other people hurt. There have been two tragedies  in our community this week. I hurt. I haven’t said anything to anyone but I hurt for the families. I can’t say or do anything that will make it better but I can pray for them and I am.

I am me. I may not get it right as the world sees it but I am doing the best I can day by day, everyday.

That’s my story. It will never be a best selling biography. It may seem trivial to a great number of people but when I stand in that mirror and put on my face every morning I can look that girl in the eye and say go and do your best. When I take my makeup off at night I can look at that same girl and say you did the best you could with what you had today, what did you learn and how can you do better tomorrow.

I Really Don’t Know What I Feel Sometimes…

Do you ever find yourself in a place where you don’t know how you feel about you???

I am there now. I am trying to journal and get to the root of what is bothering me. It isn’t working. I can’t talk to even those closest to me about it, because I don’t know how to put it into words.

I am a mess right now. I admit it. I can’t seem to win for losing. I just wander around myself trying to figure out who or what I am.

I know a couple of things that are bothering me, I however am bottling those up right now. One is that my mom’s surgery is coming up and the other is that my anniversary is coming up. Some days you just don’t forget. Do you give voice to them??

I am struggling with me right now. I can’t explain it.

The voices in my head are not helping. There are screaming how I am not enough…..not enough for my family, not enough for my church, not enough for my person, not enough for my employer, not enough for my friends, not enough as an artist or photographer. Just not enough. Period!!

I want to be seen as a “good woman” yet I want to feel like I am a desirable creature. I am a woman, we want to feel like we are desired. I don’t want to be seen just as physically desirable but also mentally and emotionally. Those two thing probably mean more to me, without a strong mind and a good heart what good is a physical attraction??

I am struggling with sleeplessness again. I don’t talk about it. I am staying up way to late doing battle with these dragons that visit me when the lights go out.

I am happy yet I am battle weary trying to be happy. There are days I just sit down and have a good cry due to physical, mental and emotional exhaustion. I try to put on the public face that I am okay. when there are times I am so not okay.

Sometimes I want someone to grab me and hug me tight and say I know you are not okay and for now that is alright.  I want to be told that I am good enough, that I am loved, that I am safe.

I want someone to tell me that I am good for something other than being a door stop, which is what I feel like at the moment. I want to live, I mean truly live, without fear before I die.

Today there was a conversation and someone said… Be who you are. I totally agree with that and as soon as the self doubt and fear subside, maybe, just maybe, I will know who that is .

I Am Just A Woman

I am perfectly imperfect. I am a mere mortal. I am just a woman.

I don’t have an amazing figure, although I am smaller than I have been in years. I for the first time in many years see myself as sexy. I am at the present moment and for the past few days perfectly comfortable in my skin. That will change, I assure you, that will change.

I am not a mother, I am not a wife. I am a sister, aunt, great aunt, friend, photographer and maker.

I am so much more than your eyes see. I struggle, I trip, I stumble and I fall. I just try to make it part of the dance of life I am doing.

I am learning as I go. I am trying to be a better me,

I am an emotional train wreck at times. I do feel all those thing that you feel. Love, joy, happiness, sadness, pain, pleasure, sensuality.

I am a woman who longs, dreams wishes and desires. A woman who laughs too loud and cries too softly.

I am a woman who is trying to make friends with those dreams and court them into becoming reality.

I am a woman who transforms on a daily basis. I learn something new each and every day.

I am not anyone you will see in a fashion magazine. I am not someone you would notice on the street. I am just me. I am just a woman.

Just An Unnamed Blog Post

I am beginning this post with no title. I’m not sure yet what to call it, because honestly, I am not sure where it will go.

I have a great deal on my mind. Some of it should be said, most of it probably shouldn’t but will manage to creep in anyway.

My usual process is to know what I am going to write about. title the post and begin typing.

I have no clue today. I am thinking about how life can weigh on you and one small act can send you into a blazing hissy fit.

I am thinking about how ludicrous some things are and how people can make mountains out of mole hills and if you don’t find the humor in it, it will bury you.

I am thinking about other things, personal things, things that I keep to myself. Simply because nobody needs to know them just yet.

I should be thinking about what I have to get done this day. I should be planning for my next project. I should be…

I am not though. Today, I am very much in my head.

I am thinking about how much I have grown as a person in the last while. How I have proven myself to others but I have proven myself to me and I can look back and say I am proud of what we and I include myself in this, this time, have managed to accomplish.

When someone believes in you, it is an amazing thing.

To believe in yourself, that is priceless. I struggle with that. I am not as confident as I would like to be. I work on that all the time. There is a difference in confidence and cockiness. I don’t want to the latter.

I know the sun doesn’t rise and set in me, but in this crazy fast paced world, I want to know that I can hold my own.

I want to be seen as beautiful and sexy without having to try. Some women can do that, when I try to flirt with him, well, I’m sure it is right comical to those watching. I want him to look at me and think I am fantastic,  just because of who I am.

It’s kind of funny, when there was someone telling me daily how beautiful I was, I couldn’t/wouldn’t/didn’t see it. Now I do and….

Maybe because I heard it so much, I didn’t believe it. I don’t know why I couldn’t see it then and I do now. I just don’t know.

I wear things that make me feel good. Although others never see them, I know they are there and they make me feel (I even hate to say this word) sexy.

I shouldn’t hate to use that word. I am 47 years old. I have lost and manged to keep off 135 pounds.  That has not been easy and it is a daily battle. I am aging  but I am not dead. I want to make his eyes spin around in his head when he sees me. I want him to wonder what I am like deep inside. The things I ponder on when I am alone. Those deep night time dreams that swirl around in my head.

These are just ramblings that I needed to get out of my head. We all have them, I am just dumb enough to post them where the world can read them. Maybe someone else is feeling the same way. Maybe this will help them.