Broken Bella Donna

{November 2, 2012}  

My inner turmoil is going totally bug arse crazy ATM.

I’m not sure I follow the whole biological clock ticking scenario, but from time to time I just get weird with this lust to parent. It doesn’t happen often so when it does it is COMPLETELY left field. I don’t have lots of good friends having babies, I don’t find myself madly in lust with any special man whom I want to father my children. I just…

Found myself listening to a newborn baby crying on TV tonight. I smiled. That’s right. SMILED. Brain said… “Aw. Cute!” NO SCREAMING BABY IS CUTE.

Bought a family friends new baby a pair of booties last weekend. Never met the kid and his mum can’t stand me. BUT THEY’RE ALL WIDDLE AND TINY AND CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTE.

Sat watching a man reading a story to a class of kids today. Known this guy (not real well) for months now. Starting intently at his side profile as he explained stuff to the class. Somewhat randomly thought “… I could fall in love with you, right now if I’m not careful.” I don’t DO love. I don’t FALL in love. WTF? Found myself sizing up his shoulders (shoulders are sexy, ok?) and trying to work out how tall he was. He’s MARRIED. GTFO! He isn’t even my type?

No idea what is going on in my strange little head.

I’m finding things… easy at the moment. Relaxing. No pressure.  Have beaten the spazz attacks back into submission (for how long? Hopefully forever!) and everything flows smoothly and beautifully from there. I can build my life back up to what I was happy with and hope that I manage to stop shy of stress again. Perhaps this newfound confidence is contributing towards my aforementioned feelings? Who knows.

New confidence could also be attributed towards two men who are flitting around the peripheries of my life at the moment; two men who are flattering my ego with their comments. Neither of which are married (for a change). One is even age appropriate (for a change).

Apparently I am beautiful. I am *still* gorgeous. I often wonder why I don’t see the same person that others see. I do not see beautiful, I do not see gorgeous (still or otherwise). I wonder if the knowledge of what goes on in my head clouds the way I view myself physically? Do I have a different idea of attractive? Do I suffer some strange body dis-morphism? Or has growing up with an overly critical parent forever scarred my view of myself, so I believe her when she says I’m not that slim, or as pretty as others, etc?

et cetera