Page 12 of Flirt Away

Wow. She wasn’t sure if that seemed desperate…

Or insanely sweet.

She glanced at her glass of wine and realized that it wouldn’t be smart to drive, and she had no desire to get in a Lyft.

Shit. She hadn’t thought this through well enough.

Dixie:Come to my place. Give me forty-five minutes to deal with some things, and if you don’t mind, bring some dinner. I’ve got white wine open. So anything that goes with that. I’m easy.

Shit. Too late. She’d already hit send.

Zane:Do you have a grill? I’ve got steaks that I was going to cook. Doesn’t go with white, but I’ve got a bottle of red I’ll bring. You good with that?

Dixie:Sounds perfect. See you soon.

She sent one last text with her address.

Now, she had to write a blog post.

She needed to come clean with her readers about a lot of things. In an authentic way that wouldn’t come off as if she were seeking sympathy or looking for attention.

Those two things were not her intention. Her blog was meant to help people. To give them something to relate to and help empower them to take charge of their lives and their sexuality.

She wanted her readers to own their bodies. Their souls. Their personalities.

Not to feel shame for being true to themselves, no matter their life choices.

While her blog was more geared toward women, it was meant for everyone and anyone who needed and wanted support. She wholeheartedly believed that men could get just as much from reading her blog as females could. Yet, even with that, it didn’t matter to her if a woman wanted to be a stay-at-home mom or a career woman who never had the desire to get married or have children. She wanted to empower women to embrace the choices men took for granted. She admitted to herself and the world that her voice and words were meant to touch a woman’s soul. To guide them on their journey. But when a man stumbled on her site, she hoped he could at the very least relate in terms of the women in his life.

She flipped open her laptop and poised her fingers over the keyboard.

First, I want to apologize for being so quiet this week. I had an experience that required much reflection—both in regard to my current life and my past. For the last six months, I have been writing to you nearly two to three times a week about how to take charge of your life, both sexually and otherwise.

And yet, I haven’t been able to do that with mine.

You see, I’ve been hiding behind my anonymity.

And my pain.

And not just with being a plus-sized woman—because I truly do love my body. When I look in the mirror, I see a sexy redhead with a lot of fire and passion. However, I allowed the world to steal my thunder. I let the voices from my childhood tear me down. I let the looks and stares from others when I was on the beach in a two-piece make me want to cover up.

Not for me.

But because my extra rolls make them uncomfortable.

No matter how many times I hit the reset button, it’s hard to always see the beautiful woman I am, both inside and out. I can’t let a negative comment or two on my blog—or elsewhere for that matter—meant to ‘motivate’ me to lose weight be the defining moment in my life anymore. I did that before, and I almost died to achieve and maintain that. It can’t define me any longer.

And neither should it with any of you.

Sure. I know there’s a fine line between being in denial about one’s weight and being active, healthy, and eating right.

I just choose not to deny myself life’s simple pleasures.

I like my wine.

Cheers.

I like my cake.

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