Mussels

I ate them tonight, in a shallot, white wine and butter sauce.

There was also a piece of bread with it -- crisp, with a touch of creamy butter on it that when dipped in the mussel broth softened and got beautifully salty.

I almost never eat mussels, but I was out with three women I know for dinner at a seafood place. I know two of them as passing acquaintances. They live near by and we have a mutual friend in common but never hang out just us. I saw them last week by chance, and they asked me to join them and one of their friends for dinner tonight.

It's been a long time since I went out by myself with people I don't know well. I felt awkward, and a little girlish, and kind of funny. Weird how you get used to always hanging out with the same people (ie your friends) isn't it? And how you get attached to having your boyfriend on your arm all the time.

It was a challenge for me. A way to step out from behind my security blanket (boyfriend) and reconnect with the person I used to be: aka, myself.

I ate mussels, which I almost never do, and drank a beer. But I didn't eat any fries, and I didn't dip into the bread basket for extra bread.

Today when I was hungry before lunch and I walked past the "snack table" at work there were cookies laid out. Not chocolate chip, not particularly rich looking. I said, 'Oh, those don't look fattening.'

I was going to have one, then I reminded myself: 'You are not a person who eats while on the move. You are not a person who eats standing up. You are not a person who grabs food off the snack table without being consciously aware of what you are doing.'

You see, I've been thinking a lot about what kind of person I want to be. A healthy one, a fit one, of course, and a person who controls food, rather than the other way around.

I also told myself tonight, when I considered canceling dinner because I was tired, and had to much work to do, and so on and so on, that I am not a person who is afraid to step out on her own. And so I went.

I hope they enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed theirs. It's never easy to feel like the odd person out -- the other three knew each other well.

So the wedding: it was amazing.

Very happy for my friend, who looked gorgeous and happy. My feet were KILLING me by the end of the night, but I danced every song (almost).

I did notice at that at our table most of the women ate a little of the crepe dessert, and none of the wedding cake. I ate all the crepe and all the cake. I wanted to.

Wedding!

I shall turn an ankle in my killer heels and likely spill something on my dress, but I am excited for my friend's wedding today.

This being a fancy event full of all sorts of people, I'm naturally beset with a bit of anxiety and worry. There are a million negative thoughts that keep trying to get in my head -- what another blogger I know might term "evil little voices."

At various times today I've had panicked, can't breathe moment because:

1) My dress is a plain gray sack that I grabbed off a sale rack yesterday. It's not the ugliest dress I've ever seen, but I look sedate and matronly rather than young and vivacious.

2) The color does not go with my strawberry blondish hair at all.

3) Riding my bicycle in sandals has given me a zebra-stripe tan on my feet that is all too visible when I don my new killer heels. It looks like I have dirty feet.

4) The biggie: I feel like a fat cow in my dress and in my shoes, not a graceful butterfly.


Maybe all of these are true. Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, I am a fat cow with odd-colored hair and dirty feet who looks like somebody's grandmother (in many cultures, I am old enough to be a grandmother!).

But for this day -- and who knows, maybe forever -- I have decided that I just don't care.

Nope. I don't care. I don't care if I look like I weigh 400 lbs. I don't care if I'm the worst-dressed woman at the wedding.

I am going to go and have fun -- and that doesn't mean pig out, or get drunk, or do anything extreme so I can take myself "out" of the experience.

I'm going to be comfortable in my own skin. And I'm going to stay present in the beautiful moment so I can really celebrate with my friend.

And I am not -- NOT -- going to twist an ankle. And if I do take a misstep, the BF is going down with me. At least there will be two of us in an embarrassing sprawl on the floor then and not just me!