Hello darling, big kiss for you, squeezing your hands, here's another kiss (dearest Minotaur). Up in the aerie at the end of the day. Odd day, here I am at the end of it. I woke up with a terrible anxiety attack that I couldn't seem to shake. Vague in origins - I don't know, it made me feel ill, just seized with this unpleasant, uncomfortable feeling - that I'd done something wrong, that things aren't right, that --- I don't even know. It was a terrible feeling. And frankly, I'm not in the mood now to relive it, entering into it by typing to you. I don't know why I get seized by those feelings now and again, some times (such as today) much more strongly than others. Though I think anxiety has been a very big problem throughout my life, only for a long time I didn't recognize it as that - I thought it might be depression - but no, I think I'm just very prone to anxiety. But do you know? I'm reluctant to take any pharmaceuticals for it. There was a time, many years ago, I consulted a psychiatrist for a while, because I felt that I was depressed. I hated my job, my mother was ill & dying, and all the rest. The psychiatrist put me on Prozac for several months. I don't know if it helped or not. I'm inclined, frankly, to think that it didn't really. I saw her for a while, once a week for some months. I don't think I liked her, looking back on it. I don't think she could ever have possibly understood a first-generation Polish-American young woman. And besides - why Prozac? - I don't think I was depressed. Perhaps a psychiatrist should have been able to judge anxiety. So what would the pill have been - then?

So no more pills of that nature, and no more psychiatric consults. I'm fine. I mean, I'm prone occasionally to these spells, but usually it's because something is bothering me - perhaps I've overstepped. And so I went back and edited out a scarlet letter, and replaced it with a dash. In case I had gone too far - and - I dread the thought - had made you uncomfortable too. The last thing I want - for either of us ever to feel. Not here, anyway.

I'm feeling better, much better. A bit more on top of things, if a bit almost delusionally so. Your Belle will be - not the Belle of Amherst... but quite belle (in her own eyes, to her satisfaction) at the ball, in Amherst. Which is to say that I went shopping. I had been thinking I'd wear this one outfit involving a midnight blue top - but do you know, it doesn't fall in a flattering way on me, so then I was pairing it with a black cashmere cardigan, and I have these old black shoes --- oh the whole effect was hopelessly frumpy & not put together at all. I knew that at the very least I needed new shoes. I had coupons. So I went to this local cozy department store - sort of like a scaled down Lord & T. - I didn't like it at first, but now I'm quite fond of it -- especially since now I don't have to shop in the plus size department! Which opens up much more fashionable possibilities (even though I am, still, full-figured).

I wore a skirt outfit to the store, so that I could try on shoes in front of a full-length mirror and gain the whole effect, and I finally settled on an elegant pair of black, pointed-toe kitten heels. They worked best with my skirt and dark hose, elongating the line.

I should have stopped there... but then I saw this beautiful blouse, crinkly, romantic, flattering... patterned in a dark paisley print in shades of burgundy, black & white, all swirly, with a scoop neck --- it's just lovely, and I had a sense it would look good on me. And so I tried it on, with my skirt & stockings & shoes-about-to-be-bought... and I looked like a 'million bucks.' Just beautiful. All put together. It all worked, and felt very comfortable as well. (Yay! No cardigan if I'm chilled! - an evening-fashion killer - this blouse has long, fitted, then flouncy at the wrists sleeves - all the better to show off my lovely watch).

Dearest, you're probably flipping the channels now... Dear God, you're thinking, she's taking me shopping, the last thing I ever wanted from her...

Oh but darling, I'm not done. The clerk rang up my blouse & shoes - a total of $55 - and the register spat back a coupon that was good for 40 percent off an item - today or tomorrow only. So, to complete the ensemble, I found a beautiful little black handbag, originally $34, for which I paid $16.

It is such a nice thing to be able to look at myself in the mirror all dressed up. I loved the way I looked (I've since changed into jeans & an old sweater - still nice, but obviously not as nice as my new dressy outfit). It is nice to look in the mirror and like the way I look. Three years of walks & workouts have paid off, and then some. I'm not skinny, never will be (God willing) but I'm healthy & well-proportioned. European in build. Slavic Venus. Oh anyway.

Clothes make the woman... Gazing at myself in the mirror, I could almost imagine myself being in some position (social, professional) other than the one I'm in now. But maybe that's one reason, a deeply subliminal one, I feel so very revved up about appearing and feeling and presenting myself and being regarded just right. I suppose I'm a literary type now - isn't that my new persona? - a diva of my own, of sorts, and I should dress properly & accordingly & flatteringly. It seems that E.D. for a long while took to mostly wearing white. I'd never attempt that.

Darling you, and you, xoxo
all my love

sweet dreams, wherever you are
love you