A few weeks ago there was some serious blech going on. Hubs was gone a lot, family members were ill, Sophie was teething, I had a nightmare that our government was falling apart, we had too much piled up.  

So one Saturday when I was all by myself, I decided I absolutely had to paint our two guest rooms. 

I'm still not sure if it was because I really needed to see new color in my world, or if it's because I wanted an excuse to go braless, not shower and not cut my hair for a while. 

One day, while covered in paint and wearing a "don't bother me I'm reading meow" shirt, I realized what I different person I felt today than I did a year ago. A year ago we were just coming off of the wedding high, and I was still wearing sparkly, tight-fitting dresses everywhere. Like to Whole Foods. 

Flash forward to a year later I'm wearing my paint splattered grumpy, reading cat t-shirt and cutoffs. 

So, with hubs' birthday coming up, we had made plans with friends to go out to a fancy dinner, and I knew I needed something to wear that wasn't paint splattered and frayed. I've never had a problem finding something I like in boutiques, so I figure it would be a quick trip to one or two stores, and I'd be all set. 

Thirteen stores later, and I had found nothing. 

Every dress had some sort of strange cutout, pattern, fit or length that seemed wrong for me. But especially the colors - the reds, the greens, the blues - all of them seemed... not me. I didn't feel red, or green or blue. I didn't feel yellow and especially not purple. 

By the seventh store, I had this sort of panicking realization that I didn't feel like I knew who I was anymore. Worse, I was starting to wonder if I ever really did know. 

Hubs' birthday was yesterday. By noon, I still hadn't found something to wear. 

While I was out shopping for a birthday card, I decided to pop into one more boutique just to twist the knife into my identity-less soul, and there I saw it. Right in the middle of the store was a dress of many colors. Blues, greens, yellows, and golds. But all of these colors, wild, deep and rich, all worked together to create the most beautiful pattern of flowers. 

This was me. Multicolored, painted, wild and deep. 

Besides the wild colors, it was the softest fabric, loose fitting and could be tied with a belt, dressy enough for fine dining, but I could still wear with trust boots with it.

So, I bought some new lipstick in a color I'd never worn before. I let my hair go curly instead of feeling like I must straighten it, and I felt... me. 

We can't stop aging. Over time, we may start to see colors in ourselves start to fade. We'll see colors appear from within that we'd never even knew existed. 

But if we keep painting and repainting - ourselves, our art and our world - we'll never stop becoming, until we can embody all of the wild, rich and beautiful colors. 

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