The funniest thing – my blog posts don’t write themselves. Hmph. I mean, you would think with all the technological advances out there in the world today, I could just feed my
random deep thoughts into some super duper writings generator. I’ll call it my SDWG. Every lazy and/or unmotivated writer will want one! Well since my SDWG is still stuck in my fantasy world, guess I’ll have to just write this post myself. Lame.
Some days I feel good. It all pulls together. I feel like I look good, and then, I work it, baby! I believe if you feel good, this exudes into your outer beauty as well. There are some days when I have the uglies, but that’s another post (and hopefully I’ll have my SDWG by then).
Like the time when I was still in my twenties (sigh) working at one of the local newspapers when a (cute!) ladder located maintenance guy about broke his neck to watch me walk down the hall. I heard his older protege playfully reprimand him. Oh yeah, I looked good.
And then there was the time at the dry cleaners when a guy out of nowhere complimented my hair, and asked about my headband (it was true 90’s stylin, I’m sure of it). He wasn’t gay, I don’t think anyway. I think he was looking for a conversation starter, any conversation starter. I gotta admit, my hair was really rockin’ that day. Oh yeah, I looked good.
That time in high school when this idiot Shane was standing outside the classroom and winking at me and blowing kisses. At first, I had no idea this was directed at me. I mean, what in the hell??? But then I realized it was at me and I just wanted to sink into my seat and disappear. I’m sure I looked smokin’ that day, probably in my super duper shoulder padded sweater dress (SDSPSD) or some other similar 80’s style whatnot. Oh yeah, I looked good.
The time at a College Station night club when I had some guy attach to me like a puppy. I danced (and I use the term “danced” loosely here as my form of dance mimics Elaine’s moves on Seinfeld) with him once and then he wouldn’t leave our table. He sat there staring at me like I was the most beautiful girl in the world. I suppose I should have been flattered, but I was more creeped out than anything. And I’m pretty sure the guy was on X or something. It’s not so great to get all that attention from someone on drugs when they’d just assume attach themselves to whatever happens to walk by. Guess I shouldn’t complain though. I had my bffs do my hair that night. So, oh yeah, I looked good.
Funny how such attention garnering experiences are fewer and far between now that I’m in my <gulp> forties. I’m positive the decrease has something to do with my getting older. But it may also have something to do with me not really giving a flip anymore if my hair and makeup aren’t perfect; my clothes and shoe selections have become more about comfort than appearance; and I’ve slacked off on my exercise. Don’t get me wrong, I still care about my appearance, for the most part, and I still try to look my best, for the most part. But am I out to grab the attention of the opposite sex? No. Well, most of the time, no. Sometimes, yes. Maybe. I think as you do age, as you do (hopefully?) mature, you’re no longer looking for that kind of attention.
Gerald provides me all the attention I need (most of the time). Back when Gerald and I used to ride to work together, work in the same office together, eat lunch together, drive home together, sleep together, etc, I told Gerald he was required, every day, to tell me I looked like a princess. I admit to having to give a few nudges on
most some mornings. A little cough, a little knowing look would usually do the trick. I needed wanted that affirmation. Now… I’m not looking for it as much. Although I’m still known to give Gerald a little nudge.