Dating myself

I guess it’s been a little while since I’ve seen her, that woman in the glass. She’s been so damn busy out there killing it in the world, kicking ass and taking names. I have to remind her to slow down and make time for me. I’m the girl inside, trying to breathe through it all, the studies, the worries, the business of work and family life amidst a global pandemic, and the occasional escaped goat. Life is complicated for all of us, escaping goats perhaps a less common experience, but a layered in factor of interest nonetheless.

Since time and tide wait for no one, and life is short (and sweet if you make time to slow down and treat yourself to some dessert) I have learned to date myself. That’s right, you heard mamma correctly, I take myself on dates. Pretty dresses, bouncy curls, red lips, cute 3 layer filtered surgimask in some pretty floral print (because although there is a pandemic, one does want to have a little flash and besides, mamma likes flowers). I pull out all the stops for me.

I take myself on solo vacations, simple but gorgeous ones. Only what I can fit in a backpack I can carry. I did this for the very first time last summer and instantly fell in love with it. Time alone. In some warm, tropical place. Quiet space, soft sand, salty air, blue sky, bluer sea, and me. I rest in my thoughts. I rest in my soul. I rest in my own company and I come back refreshed.

I take myself to get mani/pedis in those fantastic massage chairs while a sainted individual rubs a delicious smelling sugar scrub on my tired legs and wraps the same feet I walked the hospital the night before for a 12 hour shift with in bags filed with scented hot paraffin wax making them feel as silky as the day I was born. I love having them paint the toes of my sasquatch size feet some gorgeous color that since it’s the middle of winter in New England only I will get to see but it ridiculously pleases me to stare at them while I’m lying in bed ignoring my alarm and hitting snooze for the 5th time.

As for any fountain of youth, I have two people to thank. First and most importantly my mother, who I look almost exactly like, and who at 80 looks like she never aged past 55. Not a wrinkle on her naturally lovely face. Her smooth like glass forehead skipped my ass (along with her fabulous legs).

The next person I have to thank is Kristina. Thank heaven for Kristina (@Hellobeautifulmedspa), my wonderful aesthetic nurse injector, who has over the years, smoothed my own naturally deeper worry lines into the relaxed and rested visage that gazes back at me even after a long night and longer semester. Years of long days, of long nights, working, momming, of putting myself last or not on my list at all, of furrowed brows and arms thrown up in the air while I ran around screaming “I’ll NEVER SLEEP AGAIN!!! all etched an unsanctioned biography of my anxiety across my forehead.

My first date treating myself to anything was to see Kristina. It felt selfish and indulgent and completely wonderful. I looked relaxed for the first time in a long time and I felt relaxed too. I could not have been happier. For that I forever bless her name. Say what you will about botox, feel what you will about the subject of “aging naturally and gracefully” but for me I happily choose science and will fight the good fight every step of the way!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to pick myself up and take myself out for a lovely cappuccino and a decadent dessert. I’ve decided to take the night off from my studies and since I’m not working tonight it’s a perfect opportunity to treat myself to a pool of delicious blankets, and absolutely no cares. Ellie can tackle them tomorrow. Tonight she’s all mine.

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Blogger, life enthusiast, queen of chaos. Author and star of #closertocrazy, and Hairbeast Productions. I live in north central Massachusetts on a tiny misshapen, entirely accidental farm. Life is always an adventure! Available for freelance writing and social media Brand Building consultation Contact me at to discuss projects and fees

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