IN WHICH I DECIDE, “AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.”
Now, as part of my Herculean transformation, I committed to my dream of writing full time. This required a brave, bold step signaling to the universe that as my vision board decreed, I deserve literary success, while signaling to myself, that I deserve to be happy. Because by this time, between my infernal social service job and my other obligations rescuing/caring for people, I’d put others first for 99% of my adult life; now, as I began the last phase of my existence — and I intend to burn out like a meteor, baby! — I, Mrs. Hot, dared to unabashedly declare, in yo face, IT’S ALL ABOUT ME NOW.
While pursuing a writing career I would be living on savings; the accompanying lack of security would normally be nervewracking to me, but it was far less stressful than the ball and chain I’d been dragging for the previous decade. Taking the risk of giving the heave ho to the secure but hated job not only skyrocketed my adrenaline and morale — after years of zombiedom I was alive … alive! — it also freed up time and energy for the gym. Plus my onerous obligations as a single parent for the prior two decades were greatly diminished with my son’s departure for college. These de-stressing changes contributed to my happier psyche, encouraging its liberation from the serotonin-boosting carbs which had held it captive for years. Hot, here I come.
Buh bye, frites!
Yours truly,
