Before being single, if you were like me, you probably didn't give much thought to how men saw you. It really didn't matter. You had your man and at least in the beginning he adored you just the way you were, whether in sweats or in a little black dress.
I want to pull them on and admire the blingy back pockets that only draw attention to that flattened place where I sit and write. I want to wear them to my favorite haunts...the grocery store, Target or the gas station. I want to sparkle...just a bit.
I look up. I'm horrified. I hate the haircut. My shoulder-length hair is now chin length, the front longer, and the back short. Sure, a fine haircut for a girl eighteen with Japanese silky straight hair, but not for my thin curly hair.