My fresh blowout went wild with the wind as I gazed from behind my sunglasses at the technicolor turquoise water. I was mesmerized by the wake behind the boat which reminded me of elaborate Busby Berkeley choreography and the ever-changing kaleidoscope of memories that trailed behind me like bygone eras.
It felt like Mr. Weird Science was holding my hand every step of the way; right up until my one-way flight to Turks & Caicos where I'd become the Pilates/Fitness Instructor on a private resort island. For months, he patiently listened to all the stories I concocted about how moving to a remote Caribbean island with a population of three hundred would be an abysmal experience fraught with boredom and loneliness.
I signed the dotted line and the next few months were a chaotic mess of fear, numbness and denial mixed with the excitement of possibility. The idea of uprooting my life in such a big way seemed like pure fiction. How could I possibly be the protagonist of such a crazy adventure where one rids themselves of all their worldly possessions, says goodbye to friends and family, their favorite creature comforts; and moves to a private island for the next two years of her life?
Damn him for presenting the option! I mean, how was I supposed to turn down sex when my Gemini mind was already drunk with conversation and his pheromones were teasing my carnal senses. My mind said, “Keex, have some fucking integrity” but my body said “Fuck it”.
Whether or not I'm going through a bonafide mid-life crisis is uncertain. I mean maybe it's pure coincidence that I'm about to turn forty-four and life just happens to suck at the moment. But the cool thing about being a true Indie Girl and a grown-ass woman, is my ability to acknowledge life's current suckiness and its vortex of negative emotions without losing myself in it.
