So missy here confessed to the laying it bare and what a great, naked, euphoric feeling it has been. Nothing to hide, no dark corners anymore. The scars on the body visible but proudly displayed. I am sure the black dog will come again, nip that naked behind quite firmly, but somehow dealing with said dog I think will get easier from now on.
And so to the branding, or re-branding of me, naked and all. Not going to happen all in one go, and not pretending to recreate a persona, business, set of environmental spaces all in one go. I have time, the important thing is that I made it across the Rubicon and am, I surmise, still in one piece. Would rather have been skinny dipping than forging through black mire, but skinny dipping is on the list. Not the bucket list I might add as I have an aversion to the very term, ugh, squirm and to hell with that, one last time sort of defeatism, but the list of freedom.
I digress. The branding begins with what no longer fits. Let’s begin with the outer look shall we? If you are like me, I have held onto clothes that ‘maybe’ I can use one day when I am next in a place I will never be again. Those went in the black bag dragged to the charity shop and cannot explain, but always with a somewhat guilty expression on my face? Why do I feel guilty about taking clothes to the charity shop? For another time. The clothes went, along with the linen and tea towels and shoes. The coat I bought my ex the first time we came to London and I thought he looked like an RAF pilot and left for me to sob over and put on post sauvignon blanc. Gone. Important to clear clutter of pain pre sauvignon blanc. Remember that.
Unlike Carrie Bradshaw I have only a few pairs of shoes I personally would sleep with. Unlike Carrie, I can barely hold my balance on the heels, once elongating the long legs and power to exude grace. Public transport has put a stop of any idea of heels. Short of wearing sexless trainers, I am to practical yet classic footwear. Sob, bye, pretty heels. No, be firm she says.
A happy confession to make. Even in the dimmest grey of depression and angst, this plum never descended into trackpants/hoodie/bargain/pj’sallday look. So none to throw out. The slippers can stay. Take heart fluffy slippers, you can stay.
A shameful confession to make. One, dear Lord, oversized, velour gown in lilac, avec sobs, wine stains, candle wax and numerous food history which would be ‘walk in, put on, sit on balcony and scare the passers by mode.’ I looked like Barney on drugs, the day after, doing the walk of shame. I actually did not dispose of said evidence, my children demanded it. She is gone.
Darling has gone shopping
Little budget for such things but one does not need, no imperative not to get all in a fell swoop. The excitement of being a little selfish, a little cheeky and adding to the new wardrobe is hours of therapy in one afternoon. Do not believe I do not care anymore to see the fatness in the cubicle and go – I don’t care, this is me – no, it sucks but it is motivation 101 also. I don’t like the letting go, not about to embark on an epic marathon of blisters but I will make it happen. For later.
Love the new additions to the family. One in particular, in the pic above, has become my closest friend. I have fallen in love with her. Lovely comes from Cos and her fabric is like satin, her colour ice-blue and her flow is lyrical. She is so lovely I want to buy her sister, do you think I should? The dress is simple: I am Maria in the convent, and Maria, in love in the conservatory. Think I should buy her sister and that is the point, when something fits, when it makes you happy, it’s an epiphany of style, and the adding to the brand that is the better you.
Wearing Lovely today. Found matching nail polish, ‘saltwater happy’ by Essie, to match and you will find me, far from the sea, but as I only choose colours if the names make me happy, this is a given. I am.