The 40-Year-Old Who Just Stopped Caring What People Think
She Wore The Thing. Nobody Died.
I wore the dress. Nobody died.
I spent forty years folding myself into neat corners. Then one day I stopped. Now I wear clashing florals to the grocery store, let my hair go gray, and sip coffee like it's a sacrament. I'm not calm. I'm post-storm. There's a difference. Some days feel like flying. Most days feel like sitting down for the first time in years. I'm still learning how to be the woman who finally chose herself.
What I'm Into: wax lemon cleaner, books by color, thrift store finds, the quality of afternoon light, slow sips from chipped mugs
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