Trapped In the Heights

Watching "Wuthering Heights" last night got one's mind to wandering....

Kathy with her selfishly dramatic love. I cannot fault her, as I too desired to have my last beau in Cleveland pine for me eternally- with ne'er a glimpse of happiness in his future. I bore him no ill will! My ego needed the boast; it had been bruised so often previously. (Ah, but the porcelain doll-beauty of a Merle Oberon compared to my 'What-is-she?' attractiveness IS quite self-serving isn't? To the devil with you! I'm hot...)

I recognize the Linton-like taming has come in the form of maturity alone. When I pass my favorite clubs during the day I do not gaze longingly out the circulator window wishing they were open so one could leap from the bus to escape into club-beat heaven. I barely notice...only lifting my head from my Mirabella to gauge the distance I still have to travel. I have grown so comfortable in my sedateness: I have traded fun-and-flirty Banana Republic for Brooks Brothers; Bebe club gear for Comme des Garcons. I cringe when I see Juicy Couture or other novelty bags I used to rock- those bright colors hurt my eyes even after SoBe! Instead I carry Bottegas and Kors and find comfort in the fact that I tried to even match them to my shoes. Bargains now matter to me: I have to shop-around.

I have been tamed- like another Kat (Katherine from "Taming of the Shrew")! Who could imagine?


One may not write as often because part of my reformation is working for salary not hourly wages.