Lamentations of a Former Princess

I am sitting here, in my pretty lace patterned frilly 70's style white shirt and baggy skirt reminiscent of a young lady from the 70's which I am.

I am sitting here, asking truer young lady questions: am I still pretty? will anyone still find me attractive, if in my blah moments I neglect to put on some make-up or pretty clothes like the one I have on today, will anyone still stop to talk to me and ask me how my day is going?

I am sitting here, feeling like the woman I am dressed up to be. Remembering years ago when I did my hair every 3 weeks, colored my hair every other month, and bought some tight clothes that actually made every male go WOW as to how my body looked underneath all the baggy clothes I normally adorned.

Remembering when I could snap on my black body suit, the sheer one with the short sleeves, and zipper front which gave a bird's genreous eye view of my bra, and cleavage but hid the true nature of my breast by teasingly giving snippets of my aroused nipples. I remember how everyone stared at the blouse, at my face, the curly weave I had that made me look like something from a what---70's African-American movie---and at my mouth, perky and mischievous always in a smile, and to my face, sculpted and pristine. I remember it and I chuckle.

Then, I could seek and be sought, and the object of my adventures, my prey had no where to hide when I sought him, because I came prepared with what...2 headlights, and a disarming smile.

When will they ever look at me that way again? So I can be the center of attention once again...at least for some. So I can be wooed, and courted, and feel so pretty both inside, and outside, and...then I shall still sit here, but I shall not ask as many questions. I shall not wonder so much...I shall only chuckle at the past and seek, like a beauty taking a rest from the battles won and lost of old, and gettin ready to ravage the ends of the earth for...another victim that would fall to her knees to the cause.