I’ve been feeling a bit insecure lately and asking myself….where’d my mojo go? I miss that youthful zest that came naturally to me, flowing like a foamy head of beer over the top of the glass.
I used to speak with persuasive fluidity, and feel the interesting pieces of conversation come together as I told my story. Now I stammer and search for the right words sounding more like a banker hooked up to a polygraph.
Although not stunning, I was always considered attractive and able to turn heads when I walked into a room. Now I feel as though I’m invisible.
When I smile my cheeks push up and crinkly lines surround my eyes like sun beams. So, I seldom smile, and although I look mad most of the time, I look ten years younger.
My hair is turning white and wiry, like one of those little terrier dogs; only I’m not as cute. Every couple of months I visit a trendy, and expensive, salon, where a spiked out 24 yr old girl with a Bluetooth stuck in her ear, giggles and chats away to her invisible friend while tugging and pulling at my hair like she’s in a corn shucking contest. When the entire process is over I hack up $100.00 dollars for the treatment, $20.00 for a tip, and when I get home nobody notices the difference.
My ample bosoms have headed south and I now resemble those topless pictures in the National Geographic Magazines that I use to snicker at as a kid. Gravity bites.
Where’d my mojo go… my magic essence, my touch with dancing with the world and the people in it? I need my mojo. My mojo is me with “attitude”.
Maybe that’s the key. Perhaps my attitude is off. Maybe I’ve been looking at things from the wrong angle. Like looking at the negative space around block letters, and all you can see are the shapes, but when you relax and find the positive spaces, you can read the word. That’s it! I have been looking at the negative spaces instead of focusing on the positive substance! Perhaps if I stopped skulking around like an abused dog and began to dwell on the positive things about myself my mojo might return?
Where’d my mojo go? No where. It’s just been waiting for me to remember who I am, whether the world agrees or not. My mojo is spiritual, not self-conscious or guilt ridden, and rests confidently in its ability to navigate through the twists and turns of my life. I'm the only one who has the power to turn my mojo on and off, and in the end I can count on my mojo to always be there to inspire me. Phew...I'm glad that's settled. What a relief!
Has anyone seen my libido?
I used to speak with persuasive fluidity, and feel the interesting pieces of conversation come together as I told my story. Now I stammer and search for the right words sounding more like a banker hooked up to a polygraph.
Although not stunning, I was always considered attractive and able to turn heads when I walked into a room. Now I feel as though I’m invisible.
When I smile my cheeks push up and crinkly lines surround my eyes like sun beams. So, I seldom smile, and although I look mad most of the time, I look ten years younger.
My hair is turning white and wiry, like one of those little terrier dogs; only I’m not as cute. Every couple of months I visit a trendy, and expensive, salon, where a spiked out 24 yr old girl with a Bluetooth stuck in her ear, giggles and chats away to her invisible friend while tugging and pulling at my hair like she’s in a corn shucking contest. When the entire process is over I hack up $100.00 dollars for the treatment, $20.00 for a tip, and when I get home nobody notices the difference.
My ample bosoms have headed south and I now resemble those topless pictures in the National Geographic Magazines that I use to snicker at as a kid. Gravity bites.
Where’d my mojo go… my magic essence, my touch with dancing with the world and the people in it? I need my mojo. My mojo is me with “attitude”.
Maybe that’s the key. Perhaps my attitude is off. Maybe I’ve been looking at things from the wrong angle. Like looking at the negative space around block letters, and all you can see are the shapes, but when you relax and find the positive spaces, you can read the word. That’s it! I have been looking at the negative spaces instead of focusing on the positive substance! Perhaps if I stopped skulking around like an abused dog and began to dwell on the positive things about myself my mojo might return?
Where’d my mojo go? No where. It’s just been waiting for me to remember who I am, whether the world agrees or not. My mojo is spiritual, not self-conscious or guilt ridden, and rests confidently in its ability to navigate through the twists and turns of my life. I'm the only one who has the power to turn my mojo on and off, and in the end I can count on my mojo to always be there to inspire me. Phew...I'm glad that's settled. What a relief!
Has anyone seen my libido?
3 comments:
LOVE this!
Thanks Christine! Enjoy your Sunday...it's a beauty ;)
Ohhhh Leah! You are so eloquent. No one can write the way you do without a mojo!
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