Dance It Out (January 1, 2011)


Due to the toll insomnia has taken, I had more makeup on my face than RuPaul, and had to steer (mostly) away from the alcohol, to avoid the risk of falling asleep at the buffet table, but I made it. I rang in 2011, with my obviously very handsome and well-dressed date (see husband Eddie above).

After pulling down three hours of sleep on Thursday, and watching my forehead break out into a panicked case of acne, the last thing my lethargic body, and morally defeated psyche felt like doing was letting loose and dancing.

But it’s funny what a little champagne, some bright lights and familiar camaraderie can do for the spirit. I even tapped an undiscovered well of energy that allowed me to indulge my inner snark. Ladies: when you are invited to a “black tie” affair, this does not mean locating a stack of latex straps, strategically placing them over your naughty bits and calling it a formal dress. Some of these women were conversation pieces for certain, and probably enjoyed the lavish attention they received from rich, drunken men.

After weeks of self-flagellation about topics ranging from my wrinkles, my abilities as a wife, writer, daughter-in-law and functional human being, I was gratified to see that my fashion sense is a topic about which I needn’t worry. I am no Giselle Bundchen, but I know how to pull myself together if the occasion warrants.

Because of the way 2010 concluded for me – full of uncertainty, confusion and exhaustion, I don’t know what I want out of 2011 more than some resolution and a little peace and quiet. These seem like humble asks and I know I am going to have to do a better job of letting it happen, of getting out of my own neurotic way. It starts today.

Happy New Year everyone!

 

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