I Kissed A Girl And I Liked It

So, I met a girl. Tall drink of water, stems for days... articulate, chic, hilarious. Never met a stranger in her life. In fact, everyone she meets pretty much has a better day because she was in it. And you know what? She's facing some serious adversity right now. But dammit if I haven't seen a stronger force of nature put up a fight because of it. Like, HOT damn. 🔥

Technically I've "known" this glamazon my entire life. But wouldn't you know, I've treated her like dog$hit. I've called her names straight to her face. And worse still, I've deprived her of nearly every form of care you can imagine... for YEARS. Every time she's had a big dream, I've told her to hang back because she probably doesn't really deserve it. And if it ever actually came true, I told her it was only because she was sufficiently likable, not deserving. 

So, if you haven't put two and two together yet... yeah, the girl is me. And I'm apparently the world's biggest bully. Ugh, sorry self.  

I must admit, over the past few weeks, I have sensed myself internally writing the script you see before you. You know, the thank you, Cancer, for gifting me the ability to fall in love with myself post. But it took until today for it to REALLY slap me across the face like I just cursed in front of my Italian gramma. 

Here's how it happened. My next door neighbor, Karmen, and her beautiful little family unit came over last night to help celebrate my husband's birthday and scarf down some next-level-delicious carrot cake. As we were wrapping up, I shared how much lately I'm buying into just about ANY kind of service that positions itself as "therapy" [recently discovered "makeup" therapy, I'm COMIN' for ya!]. And she jumped at the chance to re-gift me her infrared sauna session for this morning. 

Half-reluctantly I took the handout. And this morning I headed in ready to a$$-kick those toxins out like friggin' Bruce Lee. You can run, but you can't hide little toxic b*tches... 

And this was when it hit me. I was standing naked in front of the floor length mirror. And the usual bad guy voice started up inside my head as I looked up and down at my slimmed body, shaved head, and new petite tattoos. What are you going for here, girl? Heroine chic? I asked myself rhetorically.

Then... I shut her dirty mouth. I popped the knee, kissy-faced my selfie cam, and maybe sent my husband a belated birthday NSFW pic to brighten his day. Tee hee. 

My mind began flooding with all of the conversations I'd had over the years on how narcissistic selfies are and how terribly JUVENILE plumping your lips is just for some phony instagram shot. Like, ew, Kardashian much? But then it occurred to me [you know I LIVE for a good epiphany moment, right?] -- I was never kissing the cam to send something off to someone ELSE. It was me! Her! The girl I'd neglected!! I was finally. loving. ME!! 

And then, it was ON. I busted into FULL #saunaselfie mode and began feeling like a super model. Because WHY the HELL not?!?!? I'm not literally trying to be one. I just want to FEEL like one. Or at least what I imagine they feel like in every Dolce & Gabbana Piazza San Marco photo shoot I'd ever seen among the pages of Vogue. 

So, here you are. A little montage of what it looks like to truly, completely LOVE thyself. I figure it's about time. This girl ain't replaceable. And so she's getting the best I've got to give: everything. 💋💋