You know how the other day I mentioned I was back?. It's been a summer and autumn of changes, of stressors and releases, of ups and downs and hopes and follies. Of forgetting who I am and letting others forget who I am. I stopped doing the things I do consciously for me - walking to work, minimizing my sugar intake, going to bed on time. I stopped taking care of myself.
But I also stopped doing the things I unconsciously do. And because they are unconscious things, I didn't know I wasn't doing them, I just knew something was missing.
Until last Sunday. Until a smile flickered in my eyes, and an unbeckoned lilt lit my words and I knew. And, I'm gonna guess, so did the man I was speaking to.
I am a flirt. I'm a girly-girl who likes being girly when I interact with manly men. I like to tease and banter. And to be teased and bantered with. I miss having hair long enough to play with as desired. And I love the heat of a blush - in my cheeks or his.
Until it came back I didn't realise that for a while I hadn't been flirting. It's not something I think about doing - it's just there a lot of the time. Until it wasn't. And now it is. And holy doodle did I miss it. It gets me in trouble sometimes, but chances are good that at 42, I'm not going to outgrow it.
I am a flirt. And one of my favourite moments this week was when I recognized that rush of lightness and playfulness that came with the batting of my long eyelashes and the sassy tilt of my head.
No comments:
Post a Comment