This is the trail that I found this morning leading from the hall to the bathroom. I think that says it all- laddered tights wrapped around the handle of my bag, mangy roses from random acquaintance sticking out, gorgeous yet dangerous heels kicked off immediately and abandoned, T-shirt inside out, coat in a pile, underwear stripped off- all of it emanating a smoky fug.
And yet, I still took off all my make-up before going to bed. I might not have enough sense to come home at a decent hour (the least of last night's errors...) but on some things I am inflexible.
Born in the Midwest, where I grew up to be a typical golden haired cheerleader/class president/most likely to succeed. And then I said, its not enough. So I ran away to boarding school where I learned to be a true global citizen, have a conscience, and look beyond the superficial to see the commonalities that unite us all, which basically means that I got fat, stopped dying my hair and shaving my legs, and- I admit it- wore some flannel. But then I came to Paris and saw the error of my ways (as far as personal hygiene was concerned) and met the love of my life. After an all too brief love-affair with Scotland (where I also did a bit of studying and got myself a degree) I returned to Paris where I now live. I tried a few different careers, none of which took, and so here I am, a stay-at- home mom to a gorgeous little girl named Ella, waiting for the next thing to come along and grab my attention. And also trying to live as big as I can while I am young (and still a little bit golden...)