Taking Stock. (Or, the Beanstalk that Grew Into Oblivion.)

I came to a huge realization in these past few weeks:

I'm totally oblivious.

Nobutseriously, I am.

huuuuuuuuuuhhhhh?????

In the past year, as I slowly have moved from one side of the spectrum of Oh My God, Pay Attention To Me to Just Being Me In The World, I have become totally oblivious to others around me. Not my girlfriends, not to my very familiar market checkers, not my clients or to the occasional eye candy that may pass by, but, other than the familiar, I am totally oblivious to how others take me in - the strangers, the girls who covet my shoes in the bathroom (or don't, I guess, as I am not really paying attention) or to the men who sneak a second look at me as I pass by in a crowded restaurant. Either I am totally oblivious or this doesn't happen at all. And, to be honest, after nearly twelve years of being Me in semi-adulthood, I am fairly certain that it does. Or at least I hope so. But still, I've apparently stopped noticing.

Everything & everyone else is a blur.

I was taking stock of the currant state of my life the other day - after a great night out with Goldi, Beauty, our sweet Fourth Addition & our Australian Sugar Mama, after where the world was just us - a night where the five of us were the only ones in a crowded restaurant (well other than the waitstaff, which treated us with such attentiveness, that at one point Goldi leaned to me & double checked to make sure that we were not, in fact, famous) - and I realized that - in between dinners with friends, redecorating Goldi's apartment, the job hunt, the two day trips I have been taking out to the desert for work, birthday plans for a date nearly two months away (March 31st! Mark your calendars!), the million faux errands that I run now that I am not working, being comfy at home, or perusing the bookstore or Buffalo Exchange - I rarely every notice anyone noticing me. I've become so consumed with my Lovely Little Life, filled with many many amazing friends, that I have come to maneuver through my world in a state of total oblivion.
Whereas before - in my insecure youth, or when I was with my Ex & subconsciously felt under appreciated, or after we broke up when I was dealing with major self worth issues due to the breakup - I was constantly aware of a wandering eye; reveling in the extra helpfulness of a Starbucks barista or the flirtatious nature of a specific bartender, I am no longer even paying attention.
But I guess, if you really break down the above paragraph cell by cell & inch by inch, what it really means that my oblivious maneuvering throughout my world represents one HUGE change in me: I'm not horrifyingly insecure anymore. Now, that's not to say I don't have my moments; but its no longer what defines Me. And it did for a long long time, with out me even realizing it. I mean, yeah, I'm insecure about my teeth when meeting new people (as they're the only part of me I'd consider blonde). I'm super nervous going into interviews. I feel funny & self conscious  when my heels feel too high. I still check OkCupid daily, but not in the way where I'm desperately searching for a date, let alone another Aussie. Nor am I the girl who walks into the bar and picks out the hottest guy she can find and decided that even for a moment, I will make them mine. I mean, I rarely even walk into bars anymore.

What?! You don't think
Lace Bloomers are the new Levi's?

What I have come to realize is that at my core, I'm not that girl whose insecurity seeps out of her pores like wine the morning after a night of one too many. Not anymore, at least. In my head, I'm just the girl (woman?) who dresses a little funny - my summer uniform of shorts and ankle boots and far too many necklaces has evolved into knee high boots, leggings, lace shorts and so many shirts layered over each other that I feel as though I have come to resemble Joey in that episode of Friends where for some reason he puts on all of his winter jackets at once. And I'm sure other women look me up and and down and think, 'What the hell is she wearing?' But to be honest, I rarely notice. I'm too busy scoring a dead on Winter Kate burnout velvet & fringe dress for $13while texting Bijou about wall installations to even look up. I actually hadn't even considered that I get the Up & Down from other women until Apartment F commented on it. And even after he said it, I gave the honest rebuttal of something to the effect of, 'They're probably thinking 'What the hell is she wearing?'' (He responded with a 'Noooooooooooo, I don't think that is the case'.) But on a larger scale, for myself, is the fact that I am no longer desperately scanning the room for whose eyes I draw attention from when I walk in.
I simply just walk into rooms now.
Like a normal person.
Like a confident girl who is there to do other things than inflate her own (deflated) ego.
I saw a girl tonight, at the hockey game I went to with my Boss & Soul-Sister of a Client, give me the Up & Down. And it was the first time I'd actually noticed someone do it in as long as I can remember. And she was probably thinking, 'What the Hell is that girl wearing?!?' (And yes, I was wearing black knee high equestrian boots, black leggings, black lace bloomers, a long sleeve black tee with a with a grey cashmere sweatshirt over it with an open denim shirt over that, and far too many necklaces. And yes, I liked my outfit, and yes, I dress funny.) But it was funny to me that I actually stood still long enough to notice it happen. (I was waiting for my girlfriend to come out of the bathroom.)
But what really magnified exactly how oblivious I have become was a brief conversation I had in the 'smokers lounge' outside the hockey game. I had mentioned that in college I had been a 'total Mary Kate Olson wannabe' and my Boss smiled knowingly and said that she could see that. (One could make the argument I still am.) My Boss was then remembered that she had stumbled across photos of me at an event from about four years ago after going through our work computer. And how shocked she was at how I looked. With more curves back then, and a decidedly more conservative style to boot, she couldn't get over how different I looked at the start of my shopgirl career. This difference is not something I am oblivious to, I knew the exact photos she was talking about. She was trying to put her finger on the difference, and after a couple seconds, she finally she said,

Aha! I know what it is! You're sexy now. You have a sexiness about you you didn't have before. And you don't even know it.

My Soul Sister of a Client agreed. And I - well, I was dumbfounded. I don't feel seeeexxxxxy. I thought I just wore more jewelry now. I mean, I don't dress sexy (see: above mention of many layers). I even said so. But from what I gather, they weren't talking about that palpable, overt sexiness. She was talking about a sort of sexiness that comes without trying to be sexy, I assume. (Hope?)
The kind of sexiness that comes with Utter Oblivion.
And more importantly, with Quiet Confidence.
And I am oblivious to it. But I am secure with myself, lace bloomers and all.

And, all this time, I thought that
I was a plant killer.

You see, after taking stock, I realized that that is what I have grown into.
I was at lunch with my Malibu Bad Ass today and we were talking about how all of our friends have grown up so much this past year; how in our own ways, each and every one of us has grown as a person like beanstalks. Like fucking Beanstalks. Up, above and beyond what we had ever thought possible in a year. In what feels like overnight.
How she who was once known for her partying is now known for her stability. How she who was known for complacency is now known for her ambition. How she who was known for her insecurity is now known for her self assurance. How she who could not check the mail now does it daily. And as for these changes, we were oblivious to them as they were happening but hell, here we are.
Whether we are aware of it, or totally oblivious, here we are.
As unbelievable as a Magical Beanstalk, it's true; I finally, finally, feel like a Grown Up. 
I'm a Grown Up.
I did it.*

*No, F that. We did it.