the life and musings of a kinky slut

Life Is Reason Enough

Lately, I’ve been doing the thing.

On my recent trip to New Orleans with friends, I was getting ready for brunch. Showered. Moisturized. Outfit was set. A little body glitter by the eyes and on the chest because I wasn’t in the mood for makeup. All that was left was my hair. I wasn’t sure what to do with it when my friend Tiff suggested a messy up bun. Not that you would know this, but I generally don’t do messy with my hair. It has to be slicked back, pulled back, braided, quaffed. I am the queen of frizz and I resist it every turn. She arranged my hair for me. But when I looked in the mirror, all I saw was frizz. I tried slicking it down with gel and a brush. I groaned and lamented to Tiff about it. “But Kristen, your frizz is your crown. Own it.” She wasn’t wrong. On anyone else, I would’ve thought they looked cute, stylish, accepting of themself, free. Why couldn’t that be me? I wore my hair, frizz and all (though I did add two bobby pins for the most unruly sections), and received compliments from my other friends on our way to our meal.

Later, while walking through the French Quarter, Tiff and I found two little shops – one displayed rocks and gems, bracelets and rings, lots of little things to touch and possibly purchase; the other, just down the street, was full of fun bits and bobbles, quirky t-shirts and socks, and a random beautiful array of expensive jewelry. Between the two shops, I purchased two new copper cuffs, two pairs of fun socks, another magnet to add to my overwhelming fridge collection and, at long last, I found a snack ring. I wore the cuff and ring right out of the store. The snake wrapped around my right ring finger, feeling as if it belonged there, was meant to be there. I used holiday money (a $100 bill from work and a $50 bill from family) to make the purchases.

One morning, to scratch off a bullet from our vacation checklist prior to our departure, I took a mile walk to a restaurant we all love in order to pick up a sandwich both Tiff and I adore. I knew I would be alone and that the Sun was out, but I was in New Orleans, this was my vacation, and why the fuck not wouldn’t I put that shit on. I wore a set of leggings that hugged my hips just right and showed off the shelf of my ass. For my top, I chose a tiny dress the flaunted my cleavage. To round off the look, I threw on a small camisole for my arms, carried my red parasol, and stomped the streets in my zip up boots. As I strutted towards Cuchon Butcher, one refrain remained in my head. “I’ve got this shit on.” And I liked it.

Today, just because, I wore a new dress I recently bought as I lounged around the apartment. Tiff and I went to Target a few days after we got back from New Orleans and I spent probably too much money on essentially a new wardrobe: four dresses, one jumpsuit (my first!), one skirt, one cute top, two tank tops, a set of comfy pajamas, and one long sleeve chill shirt. The dress I wore today is pale green, flowing, with a slit up my left thigh, and a scope neck that displays my cleavage beautifully. That same day with Tiff, I bought three new bras from Torrid as well, all of them pretty. Today’s bra is black with red, purple, and white flowers all over. In the afternoon, another girlfriend came over; we lounged on my couch and chatted about life and why are men. Later, we walked to a local taco spot for dinner. As the breeze flowed and the Sun shone and I smiled beside her, I thought, “Yes, this is what life should be.”

Life is reason enough for happiness. Reason enough to eat that food, drink that wine, wear those clothes, or take in that experience. We as a society have lived through some really fucked up shit in the past five plus years. I personally have gone through, and am still going through, emotionally traumatizing experiences in life and at work. So waiting until some moment is deemed special enough for joy is no longer a part of how I operate. Life is special enough. Being here is special enough. Drawing breath, being blessed with the ability to live, is reason enough for me to live my life in whatever way I see fit.

Life is reason enough for joy.

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