I am not exactly the party girl. I don’t step out in mile high shoes to match my mile high skirt and prance around trying to make guys follow me around, hoping for at least boob action.
I do, however, love to dance. And sing while I do it, ensuring for some unfortunate faces mid snapshot that someone is bound to take.
When I was a shy person (aka, not medicated), I needed my friends for their seemingly blind acceptance of who I was at the time. As I got older, the support they gave during some incredibly mind blowing and soul deadening issues was outstanding.
Tonight, as I got the news that my bestie that hasn’t been in town since Christmas was coming home finally, I threw on my sparkle make-up and that really cool asymmetrical top. With my heels in my purse, I set off, fueled by her earlier phone call saying she was in the mood to get hit on at a bar. The hot spot for the night was filled with pulsing music and spilled drinks. I was in heaven. The girls, whoever, where not. What dawned on me next was this:
“When did I pass them?”
I have gone from a shy, unsure, anxiety riddled girl, who transformed into a woman who can walk into a bar feeling like she could bring this town to it’s knees (thanks Lexapro!). My friends, much as I love them, have not. We stayed for 30 minutes, just long enough for me to dance some blisters onto my pinky toes and have a drink. Then we left. I went home to take the dog out. The night was a disappointment, but these girls never are. The change in me doesn’t spell the end it just time to expand the Awesome People section of my rolodex.
Wrap it up, SillyWhim….