Gorgeous day today. I was stuck inside for most of it, but during a brief period of freedom, I was treated to some of the sights and sound of spring. The college girls are tossin’ on the dresses and one young woman got caught up in a bit of wind. No, this isn’t her… geeesh… but a close approximation. I wanted to follow that dress wherever it led, but I didn’t. I’m not a stalker, I swear!
It occurred to me that I love that. When the wind presses cotton against a woman’s body. Especially if the woman isn’t a twig. That’s harsh, isn’t it? Perhaps I’m just as shallow as everyone else, but I love the curves, so if you are a twig, please be a pregnant twig at least four months along.
It’s the curves that get me, the rounded stomach, full hip, the thighs. There is nothing sexier than a ripe woman who is caught unaware, who is not posing but simply present.
I used to wear dresses and skirts but gosh, it’s been so long. I’m not sure why I stopped. Perhaps it was the pendulum swing away from the constraints I felt. You are female. You must like pink. You must wear lace. The entire time I was married to X, he forbade haircuts, so my hair was so long that I’d sit on it if I wasn’t careful. In leaving him, I think I left many things that simply reminded me of my time with him. That included the dresses and the long hair.
But the dress above would never be my dress. I think I’m more of a Stevie Nicks kinda’ girl. I own two black skirts at present. I’ve worn neither in years. Now this dress down here… it makes me happy. Part dashiki, part mumu and all fun. It’s easy access, too. That never hurts.
And in the interest of full disclosure? Yes, I own a pair of birkenstocks. Lord help me, I do. I was born in the wrong era, I think.
Postscript: no, this is not a picture of me… silly goose.