I twirl in front of the mirror in our bedroom.
They call this a “wrap dress” and it does wonders for women like me, who have “romanesque” features. Or what I like to call, a chest and hips. You know double digit sizes like me.
I twirl again, the fabric against my bare legs, feeling like satin.
It’s actually 100% polyester I’m sure, but after the winter we’ve had, the feeling of this fabric
as it swirls and licks at my legs is enough to make me giggle.
it feels so good , my legs breaking free from thier own cabin fever, after months of slacks, pants and tights.
I push myself up on my tippy toes, and I fluff my hair.
I am having a good hair day, my short, Victoria Beckham cut, framing my face. The highlights in it catching the light from our bedroom ceiling fan.
My makeup is enhancing my eyes and my bright lips, the color of watermelons, is brightening my mood.
I touch the baubles at my neck, centering them on my frame, right above the V the wrap dress is making of my breasts. I smile and wink at myself. Having fun with my reflection. I lightly flick the hoops in my ears and turn on my heel.
Now to find some shoes to go with this look.
I get down on all fours in my closet, and I rummage.
What a silly word I think, but in the next thought think it’s sounds exactly like what I’m doing.
I have to find black shoes, this dress, needs something as fun as it is.
A pair of shoes that are as amazing as I feel today.
When I was younger, I didn’t wear dresses like this.
That quote that “youth is wasted on the young” is so true.
I had a hot body, and kept it hidden away in turtlenecks , overalls and flat shoes.
Ihave an ex boyfriend, that used to beg me to throw away those turtlenecks, to buy something with a low neckline that showed off the reasons that he liked me in the first place.
I never listened.
It’s funny that at that time of my life, a time of desire, passion and lots of college aged sex that I dressed like a nun or a gap representative.
And now when I hardly have sex and feel less wanton and more wanting, I find myself gravitating toward shoes & clothes that would make Carrie Bradshaw squeal.
Life sure is really is fickle and confusing.
Oh so I’m still rummaging and looking at all my black shoes, too safe, too low, not the right color black, looks great with pants but not this dress, I need a boost, something that propels me to new heights, literlly and figuratively.
And then as I am ready to give up and just settle for a pair I wear often and will still make me somewhat happy, my hands touch a shoe that is sitting on it’s side on the top shelf hidden under the hanging pants and tops.
I feel it and snatch it up and it’s partner holding them up in Victory.
Oh I had forgotten all about you.
Black, snakeskin, four inch stiletto heel
They call these a peep toe, and as I slip my bare foot inside them, there is my toe playing peek a boo, sitting so perfectly in the hole meant for it.
The color of Pink Cotton Candy on it, shiny and glossy.
That’s how I feel , shiny and glossy , in these shoes, in this dress.
I turn to face the mirror and suddenly I am so much taller, I can no longer see my head.
I laugh out loud.
And twirl again.
The fabric swirls, my laughter rings out in that bedroom before I hear the commotion downstairs and know I really should stop admiring myself and get downstairs to my family and our morning ritual of getting out of the house.
But I take one last look back, my legs bare, and sexy under that dress
in shoes that I just rediscovered.
God, I feel good.