Blind Date

"Stupid rat's nest." You mutter staring into your bathroom mirror as you wrestle with your dirty blonde hair that has always been too thick to primp easily. Your blind date will be over within the hour and though you have some trepidation, there is also excitement, but at the very least you will look your best.

Being in your mid thirties and recently divorced after a decade long marriage, this is your first date in years. It feels strange getting back into the game after such a long time, and though wiser and more mature, you find yourself still fretting about the same silly things you did back in high school. Lightly brushing on a little Ben Nye foundation you try to make your nose look smaller, even though no one has ever noticed what you think is a glaring defect.

After finishing your face you drop the towel you're wearing and give your naked self a good look over in the mirror. The low-carb ketogenic diet and the devotion to the gym has paid off, allowing you to keep most of your youthful figure. It does gall you a bit, however, that your most prominent feature has been paid for by your idiot ex-husband. In college you rocked almost a C cup, but at the insistence of the idiot you had yourself "augmented" as the doctors put it.

"At least their still firm." You think as you gently lift the underside of your breasts. Ever since the surgery they have been very sensitive and you cannot help but give a faint moan as you begin to fondle yourself. The idiot as a person you certainly don't miss, but you have to concede he was quite rapacious in bed. Going from almost daily sex for a decade to not knowing a lover's touch for over five months has been difficult and it disturbs you that masturbating is now as much a habit as working out.

Looking at the time on your iPhone you give a frustrated huff realizing you don't have the time to screw around. Thigh-high stockings, followed by a gray and white floral lace cheekini panty and matching demi bra are the first to go on. Deciding to go all out, the burgundy squareneck sheath dress by Nicole Miller is chosen, which hints at enough, but not too much cleavage. Finally, and most importantly, are the Italian Sebastian Cammos pumps. The only heels that are truly comfortable. As is your habit, you keep the perfume and the jewelry to a minimal, simple gold ball earrings from Lord & Taylor along with your lucky bracelet from Wales your grand-mother gave you.

Looking over the finish product you give a smile and gratuitously take a selfie with your phone. Texting your friend Teri Campbell, however, is interrupted by your apartment's doorbell. "Dammit, it's still early." You complain, giving everything one final shimmy in place. Taking your time, as is the protocol in these situations, you grab your Karl Lagerfeld leather handbag and make your way to the door.