It’s Time…

So the last time I wrote, it was about my anxiety. I have a friend who is a nurse and I just sat down and had a talk with her.

We talked about a great number of things. She let me talk as she listened. Then she spoke. She kind of hit me where I lived.

She said, we have known each other a while, yet every time we speak, you put that chair between us. You have a wall up.

You want to let someone in, I see the smile when your phone goes off, there is someone. I had to tell her yes. She said but you are afraid to let him. You have had a big hurt. You don’t know how to take the lead. You are afraid that you will get hurt again.

I understand that change is scary for you. The least little thing can set your anxiety off so you keep yourself being this nice brick wall. Maybe it is time to bust down that wall. You are the only one that can do it. You don’t need to be afraid to let people see the soft person behind that strong persona you put off.

You have lived through the worst thing you could live through. Maybe it is time for you to let someone in, completely.

You need to stop holding yourself to the standard that your do. You give everyone else a pass, you accept everyone’s excuses. Yet, you don’t give yourself the same break.

It is time for you to tear down that wall you have been hiding behind. Maybe it it time for you to love again. It really is okay for you to touch someone you love. It sets off endorphins in the brain. That will help make your life so much better.   You don’t need to be so afraid. Everyone needs to touch and it might be as good for him as it is for you.

It gave me a great deal to think about. Yeah, I think it is time to bust through and find out where things could go if I just throw caution to the wind and live for real.

Screw what everyone else thinks. It is after all my life. It is time for me to love and allow myself to be loved, exactly for who I am.

A woman who craves human contact in the most intimate of ways. A woman who wants to be seen as a sexy beast. A woman who is confident enough in herself to wear that corset she longs to own, for him but more for herself. A woman who wants to be fully awake instead of making love to him in my dreams.

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A Woman and Her Shoes…

A man may wear many hats but a woman wears many shoes.

If you are woman who just has a couple pairs of shoes in her wardrobe, you are rare.

I have an unusual affinity for cowboy boots. In them I feel more confident. Like I can take on the world. Unlike most women who wear cowboy boots, from time to time I wear fishnet stockings. Like my frilly underthings, fishnets make me feel feminine. Nobody needs to know they are there. I know, that’s what matters.

I have my sports shoes, flats, wedges and my strappy sandals. I have something for every occassion. Boots however are an obsession. I just love my boots. The ones shown above and my red boots are my favorites.

I also have an obsession with stilettos. However, being larger than I would like to be, I have been slightly more than apprehensive to own a pair. I even made a board on Pintrest for stilettos. I really want them but I am a big girl.

I have bought into the notion that if you are overweight, you can not be sexy. You are not allowed to wear certain things, you can’t dress in a sexy manner.

My upbringing is also part of this perception. Dressing in clothing that is too risque is shameful. Now, I don’t wear clothes that look like I was melted and poured into them nor do I wear hysterectomy pants. I do like my clothing to hug my curves in a seductive way. Sometimes, I struggle with it. I don’t want to look desperate, like I am searching for my youth again, I just want to look pleasing first for me and secondly for him.

I want to look nice for him but I exist in uniforms. When I am not working, I want to look good. I want to wear makeup, I want to have my hair done, I want my lips and nails dark red.

I like to wear my frilly things and feel girly because at work, our clothing is not girly at all.

If he notices and likes what he sees all the better.

Today, I was taking my mom shopping. I was not going to buy anything. I have just cleaned out my closet and gotten two bags of clothes out of my closet. I don’t need anything. Then I saw them….the shoes.

  A pair of sparkly stilettos. Dare I even try them on? What if I look like an elephant on stilts? What if I fall over while trying to walk through the department store? What if people laugh at me, I am a big girl, how dare I want to wear such a pair of shoes?

I took them from the shoe department to the plus size section of the store. I was going to check the price on the scanner. I will spend  plenty of money on art supplies but I never pay full price for anything but cowboy boots.

Well, they were in my budget. The department was free of on lookers. So I slid one of the shoes out of the box. I freed my right foot from my worn flip flop. Should I dare? I slid my foot into it. So far, so good. I repeated the process with my other foot.

I was actually wearing a pair of stilettos. There was a mirror on the side of the column holding the price checker. I looked at my feet in the mirror. They looked good. Sparkly and open toed. My burgundy nail polish peeking through the toes.

Dare I take a step? With my luck the first step I take, I will break the heel, fall and chip a tooth or bloody my nose.

Okay, deep breath, one step, then another. Before I knew it I was walking up the aisle like a model on the runway.

Oh MY GAWD, I can walk in them, they look good, they are the right price and honestly, I felt as SEXY as hell. I did. My first thought was “yes Cinderella, you will go to the ball”. I had to laugh at myself.

I posted a pic on social media simply because I was so happy. I had wanted these for so long.

When I got home, I let my person know and told him, kind of, how they made me feel. I kind of hinted at it. I didn’t want to admit that they made me feel sexy. I don’t know why.

So now, I will wear them with pride and a little more pep in my step, just not sure where they will take me, I am sure it will be a fun adventure.

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.

Just Do You…

I have something on my mind and I need to get it out there.

I am a big girl. Not as big as some, not as small as others. I am too big to be average size, certainly no supermodel.

I am one of those women who doesn’t show all the cards she is holding.

I think about a great number of things when I am alone, which is a good deal of the time.

I don’t talk about all the things I think about and I don’t put them all on here.

I have those super secret saved pins on Pinterest boards about corsets, lingerie, fishnet stocking and such. Not that I am ashamed of them, it is for the simple fact it is nobody’s business but mine.

I have battled my weight for ummmm….forever. I was a chubby kid, the fat girl, the plus sized woman for most of my life.

Here is what I am… I am a woman. I like frilly things although no one has ever seen them but one man. I don’t wear them for others, I wear them for me. I like they way they feel on my skin. I like knowing they are there and nobody else has a clue.

I have spent an entire lifetime getting to the place where I can feel comfortable in the skin I am in, no matter what the size in my clothes say and believe me when I say the size I used to wear was much larger than I do now. My goal is to live healthier not skinnier.

For my entire married life, my late husband tried to assure me that I was a desirable creature. Believe me, he tried, every chance he got.

I couldn’t or wouldn’t believe him. Shame on me. I should have believed him when he told me those things.

My person has more than once told me that he wishes I could see me the way he sees me. I could tell him the same thing. He kind of blows it off when I try to tell him I find him desirable. I do the same thing. I should say thank you not ahhhh nah.

Lately though, there has been a shift in my thinking. It is up to me if I feel sexy. Sexy is not a clothing size. Never has been, never will be. Beauty comes from the inside. Beauty is seen by those who wish to see it.

What I have been criticizing all these years is what makes me, me. I am not the size I want to be but I am not the size I was and once upon a time, someone found that me desirable.

 Recently, someone told me that I looked happy. I said I am, they said no, you don’t understand, I have never seen you look truly happy. Now, this person has known me for two years. They were part of my troubles which caused my job change. In that however I did find my voice. I also found a place where I am appreciated for the talents I bring. It is appreciated, not abused.

So, no matter if you are a size 2 or a size 22. Love yourself. Love your body. Treat it well, it is the only one you have. Love your heart, your spirit, your soul and your mind for that is who you truly are. Those who make you feel like you are less than if it be for being too skinny or being too fat, that is their problem not yours.

If you wanna wear sexy knickers ( or none) under a uniform, that is nobody’s  business but yours. Just be who you are. Either people will love your for it, tolerate you for it and some will hate you for it.

As a friend told me one about five years ago…. “Just Do You”.

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.”

Wow What a Change…

So, I have been writing about getting my hair done. My niece was a rock star today. She did my hair, cut and triple process color.  She did another ladies root touch up.

My hair turned out wonderfully. The color is vibrant and she added some soft curls.

When she turned the chair around so I could see, I almost cried. I was so shocked at what a difference it had made in me.

I have been working so hard on my inside that I had kind of let the outside go. Shame on me.

Honestly, I felt like a sex kitten. Now, that is not a term I have NEVER used about myself. The combination of color and curls, oh yeah, I felt sexy.

I was so anxious for my person to see it, but I didn’t want to let on. He didn’t say a great deal. He asked me if I liked it, I said Oh Yes!! He said Nice!!!

We drove around this evening and I found myself twirling my hair. It was definitely a flirty gesture on my part, hoping he wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers through my hair.

Then we stopped to have dessert along the way, I found myself openly flirting with him over a piece of pie. Who is this woman? I am the socially awkward person who trips over themselves trying to flirt. Now here I was tempting him in this teasing voice over a piece of pie.

I like it…. I like being flirty (with him only) ….. I like feeling like a sex kitten with lush, loose curls.

I have spent enough time not liking me and my body, maybe the time has come that we could all be friends.