identity

Having a sense of identity is something I've lacked for a long time. Party due to the ex-husband (aka cuntface) more or less wiping all signs of life from my soul, and partly through denial on my part, I've been a bit wishy washy in the identity department; wanting to express myself but not knowing quite what I want to express. I never had this problem as a teenager. I was a rebel with a brain and a sewing machine. Had I not been sidelined by cuntface I probably would've developed my own sense of style further, and maybe found my way alot sooner.

Alas, I did not, and at almost [insert age] I've still got it all to do. But I am doing it. Slowly. Over the last year or so, I have changed. Although 'changed' is probably the wrong word; the 'me' that is emerging isn't a different 'me', it's the 'me' that's been buried under years of debris and despair. And who is this 'me' who's emerging?

Well, she's someone who likes Ebay very much, for a start. Tights, and skirts, and corsets and heels... so many things I wouldn't have dared to wear a few years ago. I wore a tartan mini-skirt the other day; haven't done that since I was seventeen. It felt great.

I've dyed my hair red.

I'm getting a tattoo on my birthday.

And slowly, I'm expressing myself again.

I think embracing my sexuality and the idea of non-monogamy has played a big part in this. Hiding these vital signs of my identity wasn't doing me any favours, that's for sure. With hindsight, I think I've pretended for too long to be somebody I'm clearly not, and now I've unleashed the insatiably perverted beast that I really am, I feel much better. About me, about everyone else, about spending ridiculous amounts of money on shoes...

Does anyone want to buy me these gorgeous and utterly fabulous little numbers for my birthday? ;)