All about a dress, funny that!

dimanche, le 23 août 2009

I have this dress that has been hanging in my cupboard for more than two years. I cannot recall ever wearing it. However, I do recall a day I wanted to wear it very, very well.

It was our first night in Paris in September 2007. We were getting ready for dinner with The Ex-French Girlfriend and L’hommes friends we were travelling with. I put the dress on, asked L'homme how I looked and he told me I couldn't wear it. He told me I was being ridiculous, it was not appropriate for an informal dinner.

I was crushed and devastated.

This was our first overseas holiday since we had 'renewed our vows' so to speak, with L'homme's decision to move back in with me in December 2005. We'd worked hard, we'd been through a lot of trauma, our 2006 overseas holiday literally got stolen from us. And through all of this we told each other we were going to grow old together, we told each other we could never find anyone better to be with. At times we hated each other, at times we loved each other. And in my mind we told each other all these things, knowing it would not be a smooth ride, but we'd enjoy the journey none the less.

I'd stopped smoking towards the end of 2006 and gained the obligatory nicotine substitution weight. I successfully beat my nicotine monster into oblivion with food and lots of it and it showed. But for this holiday I wanted to look good. For L'homme, for me. We deserved it. I virtually starved myself, lost a lot of weight, refreshed my wardrobe and packed for a dream holiday. We were going to have fun, laugh a lot, eat good food and have great sex. Away from the crime, away from the pressure, away from the fear.

But then my simple, elegant long black dress was not good enough. I was not good enough, was what I heard. I was ridiculous, was what he said. My money was good enough to get us to Paris, but I was not good enough to be there. Not with L'homme. Not with The Ex-French Girlfriend. Not with his friends. I was an embarrassment to him.

Yesterday I had a great feel good day. I bathed by candle light for the first time since L'homme left. I pampered myself. And I put on my simple, elegant long black dress.

I allowed myself to admire ME in the mirror. I indulged in ‘Love in Paris’ perfume. And yes, this time I really was overdressed for the occasion, but I felt great. I felt tall, I felt slim and, more importantly, I felt good enough.

There are many buckets on my journey of healing that need to be looked at. I had many of these buckets when I met L'homme. Many of them were nearly empty. Some of them he emptied for me.

But last night I added a bit to the 'I'm not good enough' bucket. I had a fantastic evening. I was witty and funny. I came home feeling great. More than that, I felt desirable. I took off my simple, elegant long black dress. I climbed into bed and played sensuously with myself until ripples of pleasure flowed through my body again and again. L'homme never saw me have multiple orgasms, but this is about a simple, elegant long black dress. Another time about our sex life.

I whispered 'faire bons rêves' to L'homme. And with a smile on my face, I slept with the angels.

(This is a photo I took in Paris on 04 Aug 2008 of a girl who was on the bus on her way home after work. Presumably with her lover. I thought she looked gorgeous, ever so French chic. L'homme asked her if I could take a photo. But her dress reminded me that in Paris one is never overdressed, never inappropriately dressed, no matter what the occasion.)