So Far, So Good

So far, my thirties are pretty awesome.

I started them out wearing a dress I made out of four black t-shirts, altered from a pattern from a great book called "Generation T." Thanks to Bernadette and the lovely ladies at Rumours on Main in Windsor, my hair and makeup looked wonderful. I was a hottie. I was a goddess. I was bee-yoo-tiful. I had a moment when I was having a more magical than usual dinner at Pulcinella with my best friend Michael, having excused myself to wash my hands before dinner (it was, I admit a ruse to stroll past Andrew, the bartender, whom I think is so classy and wonderful and also to be sanitary at the same time--two birds one stone, wink wink, nudge nudge) when I looked into the mirror and there stood a woman who had come a long way. She did not look uncomfortable in her skin or worried about stumbling and knocking something over or what have you. She was confident, she felt great and most of all she was stunning. I put my hand to my cheek and smiled before strolling confidently right past Andrew with all my womanly wiles flaring.

After dinner, Michael and I had our "And now for something completely different" part of the evening. You see, we have decided we like the Diamond Cabaret. The last time we went was the first time. It was quite fun and boobs la la la la. My birthday was different. I don't know if my confidence was ooozing and mutating into some sort of mojo but I had stripper catnip all over me.

It was, in fact, scandalous and fantastic.

Don't get me wrong, I likes my men. At the end of the day I want to come home to a man. However, I come home to cats right now. Also, did I mention I had stepped or been sprinkled with some sort of stripper catnip? It all began with very touchy feely compliments on my necklace and chit chat as they nuzzled me cat-like with their hair and rolled around with a smile in a way they weren't quite doing for the men sitting around the stage. At one point, one reached down my top and fondled my breast and gave my right nipple a good working over. It was a "dear diary" moment and both hilarious and quite the charge. There were other "holy crap" incidents in between the next stripper who actually put both hands down my dress and did the same thing. I looked around and none of the other strippers appeared to be doing this. Monique, the coolest stripper and both of our favorite out of all the strippers, whispered to me, "You are better than all the men in here." Wow. Ego boost. I don't care if she does it as part of her act or what. I was awesome. Toward the end of the evening, leaving the Cabaret, I strutted out, head held high.

Since then I have just been relaxing. I've been watching the orchid Michael gave me and I need to repot it.

Happy Monday. It can only get better from here.