Sick of Ranting and Learning to Flirt Again
The pages of my journal look like a war zone lately. Endless rants about how so much has changed. How much suffering I have been through this year. The chatter in my head with it's unceasing critical accounts of all the mistakes I have ever made—the litany of past regrets and roads not taken.
It all becomes too much after awhile. Like when you finally go to your favorite restaurant and eat until you can't move and are so happy and satisfied—but feel like a blob once you hit the gym the next day. Those blissful times of indulgence and then back to the grind. Well, the journal is the same. I can only listen to myself rant for so long. She said this and he did that and on and on until I cry myself to sleep and wake up with puffy eyes and a hurting stomach because my eating disorder decides to make an appearance after all these years.
It has not been since college that I used food to stuff my emotions. It was easier to eat cheese doodles then to figure out my life. Over time, it became possible to deal with my feelings and not use Pepperidge Farm Cookies. So when I suddenly had a strong urge to consume them again; I took notice. It reminded me of the comfort of my college dorm—feeling safe, talking with girlfriends, dealing with my changing life—and cookies of course.
Ranting and eating cookies again was not going to help. I had to come to terms with my new life. "You have it going on," he said, pointing to my navel. This young guy was chatting me up by the bathroom supplies. Cute and flirting in ways I was not used to. Do guys talk like this? I blushed and stammered and yet found him attractive. He was open, friendly and talkative. Expressing himself in ways that guys my age really didn't do back when I was his age. My confusion was getting the best of me and I asked him if he was sure. Thinking he was just helping me with my fashion as he was giving me tips about bathroom fixtures. He owned real estate and we chatted about tenants and being a landlord.
Ends up he had a girlfriend. He told me he did, but if he didn't. I laughed and walked away feeling like maybe being single again would not be so bad. Things were different since I dated. These guys were cute and talkative and had no problem expressing themselves. It was kind of refreshing even if I now was kind of awkward. Back when I was young and single; always wanting guys to talk more and now finding myself blushing cause these guys were.
Just fun—nothing to be too concerned with, I thought. That was before I checked on the internet and realized that learning to flirt again was only part of what I had to learn now. Things had changed quite a bit since I had been out dating. Guys had no problem talking to me about panties and waxing "down there." I giggled and laughed and felt silly—knowing I had to go home and brush up on what was going on. Having been married for quite some time; it had been awhile since I was so concerned with my lingerie.
Things like my sexual market value and the amount of pubic hair down there was going to take some time. The kinds of panties I wore and how many times I got waxed seem to be things I needed to know. This was serious business—laughing in the shaving isle was as far as I got. I was only going to take things so far. These guys were too much and I laugh now how their jokes and banter helped me over feeling so bad about being single again. Their friendly kidding helped me to see there was life after separation and that I just needed to brush up or shave up as it were. The cookies and the ranting had to go.
The pages of my journal look like a war zone lately. Endless rants about how so much has changed. How much suffering I have been through this year. The chatter in my head with it's unceasing critical accounts of all the mistakes I have ever made—the litany of past regrets and roads not taken.
It all becomes too much after awhile. Like when you finally go to your favorite restaurant and eat until you can't move and are so happy and satisfied—but feel like a blob once you hit the gym the next day. Those blissful times of indulgence and then back to the grind. Well, the journal is the same. I can only listen to myself rant for so long. She said this and he did that and on and on until I cry myself to sleep and wake up with puffy eyes and a hurting stomach because my eating disorder decides to make an appearance after all these years.
It has not been since college that I used food to stuff my emotions. It was easier to eat cheese doodles then to figure out my life. Over time, it became possible to deal with my feelings and not use Pepperidge Farm Cookies. So when I suddenly had a strong urge to consume them again; I took notice. It reminded me of the comfort of my college dorm—feeling safe, talking with girlfriends, dealing with my changing life—and cookies of course.
Ranting and eating cookies again was not going to help. I had to come to terms with my new life. "You have it going on," he said, pointing to my navel. This young guy was chatting me up by the bathroom supplies. Cute and flirting in ways I was not used to. Do guys talk like this? I blushed and stammered and yet found him attractive. He was open, friendly and talkative. Expressing himself in ways that guys my age really didn't do back when I was his age. My confusion was getting the best of me and I asked him if he was sure. Thinking he was just helping me with my fashion as he was giving me tips about bathroom fixtures. He owned real estate and we chatted about tenants and being a landlord.
Ends up he had a girlfriend. He told me he did, but if he didn't. I laughed and walked away feeling like maybe being single again would not be so bad. Things were different since I dated. These guys were cute and talkative and had no problem expressing themselves. It was kind of refreshing even if I now was kind of awkward. Back when I was young and single; always wanting guys to talk more and now finding myself blushing cause these guys were.
Just fun—nothing to be too concerned with, I thought. That was before I checked on the internet and realized that learning to flirt again was only part of what I had to learn now. Things had changed quite a bit since I had been out dating. Guys had no problem talking to me about panties and waxing "down there." I giggled and laughed and felt silly—knowing I had to go home and brush up on what was going on. Having been married for quite some time; it had been awhile since I was so concerned with my lingerie.
Things like my sexual market value and the amount of pubic hair down there was going to take some time. The kinds of panties I wore and how many times I got waxed seem to be things I needed to know. This was serious business—laughing in the shaving isle was as far as I got. I was only going to take things so far. These guys were too much and I laugh now how their jokes and banter helped me over feeling so bad about being single again. Their friendly kidding helped me to see there was life after separation and that I just needed to brush up or shave up as it were. The cookies and the ranting had to go.
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