Body image. Self-confidence. That somebody is going to discover that I’m just winging everything in my entire life and that I really just feel like a 15 year-old girl who is faking it till she makes it.
I’m very frightened of bugs – especially roaches. I fear that my cancer will return. I worry that my law firm will suddenly go under and I won’t be able to support myself. I worry that I’m somehow unknowingly being a bad mother and fucking up my kid. I’m scared that Freya is going to think of me as the big bad wicked step-mother. I worry. A lot.
Intelligence. Ambition. A dry, sarcastic sense of humor. Good conversation. A scruffy face. A take charge attitude. Just the right amount of arrogance. The feel of his body against mine when he gets on top of me and spreads my legs with his leg. That’s fucking hot. Also, a firm ass grab/spank. Men that act like men and not little boys. I don’t want to be your mom.
To be the best version of myself that I can be. To constantly work on improving myself. To never give in to my demons. To be happy, healthy, and loved – and to live in the moment.
Things I love
My kid. Dave. His daughter who will someday be my (step) daughter. My cat. All cats really. My friends. Polka dots. Frilly girly girl dresses. Bell’s Two Hearted Ale. This particular Missouri wine that is made from Chambourcin grapes. Fluffy down filled blankets. Thunderstorms. Sandalwood scented everything. Excessive black eyeliner. Bonne Bell lip gloss. Winning an argument in court. Cake. The runner’s high. Dancing it out. Intense conversations when high. Dave Matthews.
A serious lack of patience. Road rage. Feeling guilty about everything. Being too hard on myself. A flair for the dramatic.
Ambition. Determination. Intelligence. Loyalty. Love. Empathy. Leaning the fuck in. The fact that when I care, I care so very much.