Posts Tagged ‘heels’

Damn!

May 2, 2018

That dress!

Those shoes!

Your outfit, girl, damn, you are working it.

But you already know that don’t you?

What the fuck was I supposed to respond to that?

I smiled.

I said thank you.

Then I went into the waiting room and got my client.

Who had overheard every single word and was smiling as I came out.

I was not expecting to have that interaction in the hallway at my internship.

Not with another therapist, although, the woman, and it was a woman who made those comments, is likely a massage therapist, not a psychotherapist.

This is what I told myself when I noticed her lack of shoes and her athletic leisure-wear look.

She may have been hitting on me, I am not sure, but I wasn’t going to take the time to find out.

I just collected my client and went back to my office to start my session.

I will say, though, it’s nice to get a compliment.

And.

Well.

I did, do, look nice.

I have gotten home and though still attired in my dress and tights, I am no longer wearing the heels.

The heels are a pair of taupe patent leather that I fell for pretty hard and then have only worn, counting today, twice.

I’m not sure what compelled me to wear them, aside from the fact that the dress was all black, my tights were black, and my fingernails are painted a neutral taupe color that the shoes complimented.

I had my hair up in a big messy bun.

My glass heart pendant on and silver hoops.

It was definitely a sassier therapist look than I normally rock, but I wanted to bring it a little today.

Not sure why.

But it was there.

It was a good day, despite the pretty constant reflux I’ve had.

I’m so grateful I’m seeing the GI tomorrow.

And I’m hopeful that whatever is happening can get addressed.

I’m also hopeful that I can get out of the appointment in a timely fashion so that I may get over to my private practice internship interview.

I really don’t want to be late for that.

And I have figured out what I will be wearing tomorrow, which is nice, as I have an early day at work and will be getting up at 6:30 a.m. to get there on time.

I’ll just be doing a five-hour shift, then off to the doctor, the interview, and yes!

Supervision.

The Wednesday supervisor got back to me as I was in my last session tonight and let me know that someone called out and that there is space in the group.

Thank God that’s dealt with.

So tomorrow after I finish with the interview I’ll probably have about an hour to kill before supervision.

I’m thinking I’ll grab at salad from Gus’s Market and chill out.

It’ll be good to have some down time.

I may do a little client advocacy work too, catch up on some articles.

I’m quite happy that things are falling together this week.

I also got my therapy verification paperwork signed today!

One more thing off the huge check list of stuff that I have to finish.

I have all my paperwork set up in my binder and ready to drop off at the practicum office on Friday.

In fact.

I think I may go in early and just see if I can get it out-of-the-way immediately.

Either that, or drop it all off during my first morning break instead of waiting until lunch time.

It felt really good to talk with my therapist, who went to the same school I did, about the paperwork and the process and how I didn’t actually feel excitement yesterday, but rather tired and a bit emotionally depleted.

I teared up a little when I relayed that.

I want to feel excited, damn it, I turned in my last fucking paper!

But the work took a lot out of me, and I think I haven’t really let it sink in yet that the work is done.

I feel like I’ll get that nice feeling when I get all my paperwork turned in.

That will probably be the lynchpin.

I’m hoping anyway.

I’ve done so much work, I really need to appreciate it and myself.

Maybe I need to have some sort of little self-acknowledgement moment.

Or get myself something.

I don’t know.

Maybe I just buy some flowers for myself.

I’m sure the right thing will come to mind.

But, yeah, an acknowledgement.

And yes of course, I will get that when I walk in commencement and go to my graduation party.

I will have some ceremony and that will be good.

I sense, though, that I need to do something else.

Just take a moment and appreciate all the work I have done.

My therapist actually did that really nicely with me today and I did get excited talking about the private practice internship and what that might look like.

And she shared a little bit with me about her own process so I had a feeling of what I will be doing.

And that I would be getting paid for the work.

And that I could start taking referrals and marketing myself.

All things I really quite like.

Tomorrow’s going to be a big day!

I remind myself, that this is a transition too, and transitions can be sticky.

I get to be kind with myself while it’s happening.

And yes.

Dress the fuck up.

Because I always feel better when I’m working it.

Even if I can’t verbally acknowledge it in the hallway in front of my client.

It’s a very nice feeling to have.

Seriously.

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Epic Fail

March 3, 2016

Come on Tinder.

What the fuck.

Ugh.

Well.

At least I got to get dressed up.

I do love putting on a dress and hey, I used the guy’s height as my excuse to go traipsing about in my heels.

I mean.

It’s not every day that I have a date with a guy that is 6’4″.

Unfortunately.

He was not as upfront about the weight, it was a bit too much, there’s I’m a bit of a bear, and there’s what showed up.

Le sigh.

I gave it two hours though, he was nice, smart, but the chemistry was not there and we tried a little, but it was not what was promised, heh, I had a friend warn me about that, some guys really have a great text game.

I thought I had this figured out, at least this guy was the age his profile said he was.

Just not at all the body.

Unless those photos were, well, taken at really flattering angles.

We even Face Timed.

Oh well.

Chalk one up to I tried and I had fun being pretty today.

I did.

I loved being out in the world on my scooter in my crinoline and gingham skirt, my pink scooter jacket and my glitter star helmet.

I make quite the picture.

I waved at this little girl in a stroller and wished her a pink scooter for her sixteenth birthday.

Grow up and be fierce little lady.

I also admired the glitter mary janes she had on.

Seriously, sometimes I just want all the sparkle.

I also want a real god damn date.

I suppose it’s for the best, I do have a lot to do this week, yoga, school, school, school.

Work, work, work.

Recovery, recovery, recovery.

I was just hoping for a little canoodle in the mix.

Le sigh.

Ha.

I don’t mind, I don’t really.

And I know, from experience, that the online dating, the phone app, the whatever, it’s, well, it’s just a game.

I mean for fuck’s sake Tinder’s little prompt is to go back to “playing” if you’ve succeeded in making a match with someone but aren’t partial to sending them a message right away.

I haven’t started up my OkCupid profile again, I figure one is enough.

Frankly, though, I really did have better luck in the grocery store.

Of course, that was unexpected and also just goes to show what can happen when you look up, who knows who is looking at you.

I mean, most of the time I don’t know when someone likes me, I have gotten a little bit better at it and I heard something recently that I really like–assume every guy likes you until you are told otherwise.

Ok.

I’m about to cancel the damn app again.

Ugh.

It was suggested that I keep trying.

I feel like I have better things to do with my time.

But.

I also understand that dating is weird and hard and goofy and I can’t expect that I’ll even find someone or they will find me.

I have had love.

And I am grateful for that.

I would like, however, to have some fucking sex.

How hard can this be.

Or at least decent make out.

That’s a challenging thing too, I have someone who was, well, the best kiss of the past decade in recent memory and that does make a good make out session hard to find after that.

But that, as I well know is so not available.

It’s so funny how that happens.

I keep getting messages, like, oh, if it wasn’t meant to be, there’s better out there, and there might be, but apparently I have to wade through a few crappy dates before I get there.

I know that anything worth having takes time and effort and work.

Despite the instantaneous “feel” of the app, it’s all really just fantasy.

And frankly, I want reality and yes, boys and girls, for the last time, I just deleted the app.

Screw it.

I have other ways to meet guys.

I think that it’s not to much to ask to be asked out.

I don’t think it’s too much to engage with a person face to face.

And my date was right–he said I may change my mind when I meet him, but I really wasn’t expecting that much of a difference.

I so wasn’t feeling it when he showed up looking like he did, especially after some fun conversation and some flirtation that led me to believe he was a bit of a different person than the one who showed up, but I am happy to say I gave it the old college try.

Ah.

Oh well.

I am not resentful and I am not sad, it was what it was and I’m not changing the Universe by telling my little story, it was just an experience.

Not necessarily the one that I wanted to have, but that’s ok.

I bet there are more experiences out there to be had, in the real world, face to face, person to person and they don’t have to be dates, and there doesn’t have to be expectation and I can still dress up.

I really am allowing that for myself, the dressing up the last few weeks has been a lot of fun and I am going to continue to let myself have that fun.

Heh.

Speaking of.

I got a cute flower clip today, thank you Etsy, and will be putting that into the mix at some point, a bunch of pink vintage roses, very sweet and it looks quite adorable in my hair when it’s all piled up.

I’m thinking of wearing it tomorrow.

Although, I’m not certain what tomorrow will bring, the weather seems to be turning.

I could be on my scooter, but I haven’t yet ridden it in wet weather and I’m a little loath to start.

I may be on my bicycle.

That will be fun, it’s been a minute.

But I feel safer on my bike in the wet then I think I would on my scooter.

I’m sure there will come a time when I am out and it rains and that will be how I learn, but I have heard one too many tales of people wiping out in the rain on a scooter for me to just be considering that I might call a car or ride my bike.

And since my date was so short, fuck, I might get up early and do yoga before work.

Or school work.

That was actually a handy excuse to end the date faster, I was like, it is a school night.

Sort of.

I do have homework, but I was not planning on doing it tonight.

Tomorrow will suffice.

A new day, a new date, but this time the old fashioned way, or at least not the way of flipping randomly through strange photos of men on my phone.

I deserve real life chemistry.

I deserve hot make out.

And stupendously good sex.

Seriously.

I mean.

Who doesn’t?

Boom

February 8, 2015

And like that.

I’m back.

I’m in it.

I’m Okstupid’ing.

I’m Tinder’ing.

I’m wearing heels.

I’m on fuego.

I don’t know who I’m fooling.

I’m hanging out alone in my room blogging.

But I gots some date offers on the table.

Holy moly batman, Tinder is at once wildly unnerving and aggressive, just because I swiped that way does not mean I’m ready to bend over and be all Clan of the Cave Bear.

Jesus people.

Simmer down.

Then a friend explained to me it’s rather like the straight version of Grinder.

It’s an immediacy app and there’s some up front people out there.

I’m not sure I’m made for it.

However, it’s nice ego feeding, I won’t deny that.

What it is though, is distraction.

Distraction from the present, distraction from the hard work of making relationships work, dating, being human, meeting people, interacting.

That’s so much the thing about social media, it’s all-encompassing and it’s all fantasy.

Just because you’re smiling on a beach in Hawaii doesn’t mean you aren’t sad somewhere else in the world.

I don’t know you until we sit down and engage.

So with that in mind I took some of the other suggestions I received yesterday and I actually reached out to someone in my community who I have always thought was attractive and funny and has some interesting things going on in his life.

And what do you know?

We’re going to go out and grab a coffee in the near future.

He was on the list of ten guys I would be interested in going out with.

I have to say, that list took me a hot second to put together.

I had some difficulty arriving at ten.

I did, however, write it out and I was able to reach out to one of the guys, via Facecrack, I’ve known him for years, but never well enough to have exchanged phone numbers.

That has been rectified.

A few texts.

A few jokes.

A plan to grab some java and hang out.

I also made it clear that I was practicing dating and that I was reaching out in that capacity.

Not as a hang out and have a cup of coffee with a friend.

But a date.

Or rather.

An interview.

Let’s see if something’s there.

We have some really strong common ground and he’s got some awesome tattoos, so there’s that.

He’s also my age, which I really like, actually, I think he’s a couple of years older, which is good, I seem to attract and be attracted to guys a bit younger than me, which is cool, but I want someone who has a little more life experience, I realize that quite well now.

I’m not ruling out dating younger guys, but my track record hasn’t been the best with them.

I also crossed another guy off the list tonight when I saw him up in Noe Valley.

He’s attractive, there’s some chemistry, known him for a few years, he’s sweet, but oh, lord, he’s a smoker.

I mean, heavy.

And I had some reservations when I put him on the top ten list.

I knew as soon as we walked out of the Starbux and headed up the hill that I couldn’t, I just couldn’t.

I can’t date someone who is a heavy smoker.

I just can’t.

And I used to smoke, but I haven’t in 9 1/2 years and I don’t intend to start ever again.

It’s just gross.

Hella gross.

Hecka gross.

Gag.

So, off the list with you.

I thought about reaching out to another guy on the list, and I will, but I think for tonight, for today, I did pretty well.

I took a lot of actions.

I re-opened the OkCupid.

And I deleted all the old messages therein and blocked my ex.

Ayup.

His profile immediately popped up in my matches.

Ack.

I did not look.

But I read a message he had sent me and I realized I was about to fall down the rabbit hole.

Nope.

No.

Don’t go there.

I’ve been cleaning house and making room for the new and I don’t need any of that hanging out in my closet.

I have done my inventory and he’s not in the stock room any longer.

And when I did that.

That last bit, I didn’t even know it was there to be done, it felt right.

Clean.

Clear.

Free.

Moving on.

Thank you God for this experience.

I have grown so very much and learned so much more of love and of myself and I stepped it up today.

I dressed up.

I did my make up.

I wasn’t planning on going anywhere spectacular, but you know, San Francisco.

And just because half to three-quarters of the women here are running around in lululemon yoga pants does not mean I have to wear my sneakers out in the world.

I wore my heels and it felt grand.

I dressed for myself.

I also found myself in a store in Noe Valley buying a super over the top vintage wicker purse for myself that I had absolutely not planned on buying.

But it was so fabulous and I was in heels and I felt like I could just stand on the corner and kick back a foot and dangle that purse from my hand and Vogue would be shooting me with Grace Coddington nodding her head in approval in the back ground.

I mean, it’s stupid cute.

The owner and I fawned over each other and as I ran my fingers longingly over it, knowing I really wanted it, I set it back down.

It was more than half of my clothing allowance for the month.

I wandered over to look at something else, and run my hand across a spectacular black cardigan with large paillettes, my mind clicking the numbers in my head, I am getting a tax refund after all.

The owner of the store came out and said, “you know, I just can not have you leave without that purse, I’ll take $40 off it.”

Hello.

Sold.

A purse does not make the girl, but oh la la, it certainly put some swagger in my walk this evening.

I think I’ll be doing a lot of swaggering around town in the next weeks.

I’m back in the mix.

Bring on the dating.

My heels are out of the closet.

And I am fabulously accesorized.


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