I’ve been working on a number of challenging custom orders this past week, my head busily trying to wrap itself around how to achieve the effects I want to achieve. And because I’m so pig-headed (that’s the term the boys feel most accurately describes me), failure to achieve these effects is not an option, damn it. I’ve been hyper-focused on studio work.
But I’ve also been dating, which really takes a lot of brain power, too. Serious focus is required to not overthink matters of the heart, but I am very capable of overthinking lots of other aspects of dating: What will I wear? And how will I do my hair? And why am I breaking out like a thirteen year old boy who has yet to grasp the need to wash his face every day, with soap? And how well can I conceal this breakout, and how much will it take away from my general fabulousness?
And speaking of my general fabulousness, my commitment to maintain my fabulousness has slipped some this past year as I’ve thrown myself into my business, and what I’d like right now is to have my cake and eat it, too. I’d like to be top-of-my-game-gorgeous: buffed heels, toned shoulders, tight abs, hienie like two firm apricots sitting side by side, but I’d like this to have occurred while I work the hours of a possessed woman who has no time to buff and tone and tighten.
I’m not good at juggling multiple thought bundles, and the problem begins when I’ve let my mind focus on nothing but buffing heels, polishing nails, curling hair, and moisturizing for a whole day. I walk out the door for my date, leg city and with cleavage so visually magnetic it threatens to suck the poor man’s brain right out of his skull, and after preliminary flirting and a glass of wine all I can think of is….. how can I get that embossed effect on a curved, dapped surface? And the black diamond….I’m just not liking what I started, and I really shouldn’t have purchased that new tourmaline, but how could I let something that gorgeous get away?
And I tell my date all this when he asks about…. Oh, I don’t even know what he asked, but my answer was “blah, blah tourmaline and sapphire, blah blah silver mordants and embossing, blah 22k blah.” Because I’m that slick. Katie Stein: Love Machine.
But, here’s the thing. While I did this, while I babbled on about jewelry and gold and lovely clients, the beautiful man got a look in his eyes. Not the type of look I’m used to seeing in men: a sexual look that says they don’t mind listening as long as my voice comes from roughly the same area as my cleavage. This was a much softer, sweeter look which seemed to say that my fabulousness was nice and he really liked the Magneto Cleavage, but my brain was doing it for him. His look stopped me in my tracks.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said,”Etching, embossing, milling. But I really like how you talk about it.”
And then he had my full attention.