I’ve been trying to eat well since my brain aneurysm diagnosis. Between that, therapy visits and moving my body more (walking), I’m realizing there’s something to this whole body-connection-thing. Having a nice figure is really just a side effect of being healthy.
Captain Obvious? Is that you?
Furthering that thought, having a happy attitude is really an added bonus – the sweet cherry topping – to our emotional, hot fudge sundae. If you’re mentally and physically healthy, the Happy and Hot will follow.
Do I feel happy all of time, and do I walk around feeling like Cindy Crawford, circa any decade? Er, no. But more times than not, when I’m taking care of myself I’ve an extra bounce in my step, and in the right lighting, on a good hair day, after kicking back some champagne, I feel like a super model. Kind of.
I’m still not where I want to be, but I’m closer than I was yesterday.
This will be the decade of Divine Decadence, like Sally Bowles in Cabaret. Without the hairstyle and cigarettes.
So how does one kick off a new-found healthy way of life? By opening herself up to romance again, naturally.
After my last romantic split (Kevin is a great friend now), it was wise to take a break from the dating world for a bit. I needed to pop the hood and check the oil in my brain. It was time for an emotional oil change – to try to get to the bottom of my choices.
I’m still working on my engine, but feel ready to start merging with traffic again. So, recently I got myself dolled up in fancy shoes and my fave LBD, and I met him. First Date Guy.
Let the games begin.
He was handsome, polite, and easy to talk with. More importantly, thirty minutes into our three-hour rendezvous, he smiled, shook his head and proceeded to tell me how fascinating I was – and that he’d like to see me again. Cool.
The night ended with him walking me to my car, a friendly hug good-bye and the usual “I’ll talk with you soon”s. We texted when we arrived home, and reiterated how much fun we had. He joked about not getting a chance to kiss me, I joked I was a lady. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him romantically, but was excited for date number two, to find out.
Date two never happened. No text. No call. Just the heavy weight of silence attached to an invisible cartoon balloon over his head reading: “Thanks, but no thanks!” I thought of changing my iPhone wallpaper to a photo of tumbleweeds over the weekend, but I digress.
A few years ago, I would’ve spent exhausting hours (ok, months) beating myself up after such a thing. Wondering what it was about me he didn’t like. Was I not pretty/skinny/funny/smart/sexy/fill-in-the-blank enough for him? Instead of just realizing it wasn’t meant to be – and – ironically, that I really didn’t even know him to form an opinion of whether or not I was interested in him. Pffft.
I may never know why First Date Guy disappeared, and that’s okay. I learned so much about myself that I am eternally grateful for the experience.
Just like my friend Patrick helped me learn about expectations, this fella was instrumental in the realization that it really doesn’t matter what he thinks of me – it’s what I think of me that matters.
What other people think of us is none of our business. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
I’ve never been much of a serial dater, so I don’t expect a slew hole punches on my dance card. But after a rough few months of change, I’m open to the possibility.
*Title credit: Lena Dunham’s character, Hanna in GIRLS (HBO).