This morning I put on the ‘rock the fox’ dress that I’d bought in London. At the time, the French pastries that I’d been well accustomed to eating all day, every day showed themselves by pushing my stomach out of the dress and grin in that sick and twisted way where your belly button becomes a smile. Since my exorcism of those fatty treats, the fox has been put back in its place. I put on some New York heels too and checked myself out in the mirror. Not bad NJ, not bad.
After tripping around the globe and eating huge amounts of food, I was surprised to have male attention when I wasn’t stuffing my face with cakes; from being chased after into the Metro in Paris, chatted up in a boulangerie in Nice… even a gay guy buying me a glass of wine in NYC. What kind of wizardry was this…? This doesn’t happen back home (at which point I explained to said gay guy that Kiwis generally go to a bar, get smashed and pick out who they’ll try and take home if they hadn’t managed to fall asleep or had a disagreement with a brick wall. He then vowed he’d be on the next plane over).
Nan reckons that it’s time. Time for me to just go out there and find a man and when I do, I have to bring Whatchacallem back to the homestead to meet her. Sounds pretty easy aye, like handsome, available and nice men just hang out and wait to open doors for you and compliment you on your amazingness. I told her that her grandson’s a pretty tough act to follow, but she said just go and find one.
Mr T had randomly given me the dating go ahead about a month before he died. We were on our way back home from the gym and he turned to me and said “If I died, I’d want you to be with someone, because I’d want you to be happy.” I looked at him blankly and replied that I could never do anything like that, because at that moment I could only imagine us living well into our 80’s with truckloads of grandchildren. He’d also picked out what he called my ‘online dating photo’, from a trip a couple of months prior.
I like that, now. I like that Mr T gave me the go ahead as much as his Nan has been when I go and visit her. I figure that it’s another good excuse to buy new dresses, make-up and heels. And you know what… another chance to stand in front of the mirror, smile and be happy that I’m me. Thankful for the amazing experiences I’ve had and for those that are going to be. It’s time, to rock the fox!