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Mood Ring Chpt.1 (revised)
Author’s note: I was re-reading my stories because I had been away from them for so long and I am trying to complete the series when I realized that I could make some minor changes to improve the flow and readability, so I am revising my submissions. Changes are minor to content, mostly new stylistic formatting with some deletion as appropriate where repetition became intrusive to serial reading.
The story hasn’t changed; I hope the minor changes I have made make the reading experience more enjoyable.
Hello. My Name is Lynne and I am a Lesbian!
I think it is best for a person to just announce out-loud something that they have long denied. In truth, this is the real spirit of saying that thing in those 12-step programs.
I don’t believe that being a lesbian is anything to be ashamed of… My reference to the 12-step program is focused solely on embracing who and what you are and therefore defeating denial. So many people carry around guilt and shame for no reason. Shining the light of realization and acceptance into the darkness defeats the shadowy monsters that truly exist only in our imagination.
Until you embrace who you are, you are stuck denying the truth and will never evolve in your life.
I live in the Deep South of the United States of America which is by all means, very conservative socially: that means conservative sexually. I am a product of my environment. I had grown up with the implicit understanding that I would find, fall in love with and marry the man of my dreams.
That is just the way life was scripted in my world.
I wanted to find, fall in love with, and marry the father of my children; a strong lover to whom I could look up and admire. I fantasized about the big church wedding with a big white gown with veil and train, birds, singing, and cake!
And until I was 24 years old, that seemed to be the way my life was leading. I was totally fine with it.
Little did I know that my life would literally spin out of control and when the ride was over, I would find, fall in love with, and marry the MOTHER of my children! Someone who is a strong lover; to whom I look up and admire. (I still want my big white gown, birds, singing and cake!)
Whew, what a strange trip it has been!
So, I guess I should begin my story where it really began.
Before my life took its fateful turn, I was an emergency department nurse living in an undisclosed city in the south (sorry, my anonymity is important to us both even though we no longer live in that city anymore) and our hospital had been trying to upgrade our ER status to attain “Level-One Trauma Destination” certification. (In order to ensure that quality care is being provided, my state requires certification for hospitals to be regarded as trauma destinations and patients severely injured enough to meet “trauma alert” status have to go by law to a level-one trauma center.) There already was one in my town, but my hospital wanted to compete and felt that doing so would better serve the general community.
Of course there was a certain amount of bitching from the staff; there always is when the status quo is upset. Some people do not like to have additional requirements placed on them in order to keep on doing what they have been doing. However, I looked forward to the additional requirements as it meant I would be gaining additional skills and certifications not only increasing my skill set but also making me more marketable as a nurse! In addition, the trustees of my hospital had hired a new trauma neurosurgeon who is an innovative master in the field. The opportunity to work with a living legend was appealing to me as well.
Anyway, the point of my story is not to educate you about state law regarding trauma centers. It is to tell you how I met my lover.
Dr. Anneke Beauchamp is one of the most respected trauma neurosurgeons in the world and conducted our trauma neurology class to bring us up to speed. It was the final section for our accreditation and I had been looking so forward to it! I literally worshiped the ground this woman walked on as she is my ideal of womanhood. She has attained a high level of peer respect and standing in a field that is dominated by men, but she has retained her femininity.
Dr. Beauchamp is of French descent from the Alsace-Lorraine region of France and damn proud of it! (I don’t know exactly what all of that means, but I do know that it gives her a delightful accent when she speaks.) Tall, blonde-haired, and blue eyed, she is a paragon of fashion and always dressed for any occasion! I cannot think of a time when she has not appeared in a fashionable mode! She is elegant and graceful. She is one of the few women that I know of who has not garnered a lot of scandalous gossip as regards her social life.
However as she is a bit of a mystery; she has garnered a lot of speculative gossip!
Everyone bursa escort bayan wants to know: who is her lover?
She is a bit of a mystery sexually because as clever and beautiful as she is, she is not married and no man can legitimately claim to be or to have been her lover. No one is known to be dating her and no substantiated rumors about her having been seen in a lesbian environment exist either. Many people are curious but no one has ever been able to say one way or another!
So, of course the talk ran the gamut from her being a closet lesbian dominatrix to her being a tragically frigid Ice Queen. (Strange that people try to fix some kind of derision to her status as an apparent model of virtue; I guess it is human nature to try to tear down anyone who appears to have their act together and behaves in a professional and unimpeachable manner.)
I hero-worshiped her because she appeared to live in that rare zone of self-awareness that is giving, requires nothing from anyone and is totally humanitarian. Despite her high social status, she still acts humbly and relates on a personal level to each and every person that she meets in the course of a day.
That and incidentally: she saved my life!
When I was 24 years old, I was involved in a serious car accident with a drunk driver. I was not drunk. In fact I was returning home from a long shift in the Emergency room. I do not remember anything about that incident except for waking up in the intensive care unit several weeks later.
From what I was told, the woman driving the other vehicle suddenly swerved in front of me and in my attempt to avoid her, my car flipped several times and I ended up being pinned in the wreckage. It took many minutes to free me and I was rushed to the existing level-one trauma center.
That night, Dr. Anneke Beauchamp was on call and was the surgeon who saved my life.
I survived my near-death experience with no brain injury thanks to her brilliance. She had perfected a technique of causing hypothermia in a patient post-traumatic incident (in my case a serious concussion) to reduce the free radicals from attacking the brain tissue as best I can understand it.
I had some severe facial injuries, but an excellent plastic surgeon worked on me. He had to reshape the bones in my face and my nose and now you cannot tell that I was so horribly injured. Of course with so much work having been done to reconstruct my face, you cannot tell that I am the same person either.
Before the accident, I was a model. My face had a unique angular dimension with light green eyes that slanted just so. My features were described as “vulpine”; I had built a portfolio doing some minor commercial/print work for local businesses and moved on to some minor runway work thanks to my “unique look.” Now I am more the girl next door. My eyes are still the same, but instead of having my Irish heritage show, I now look like I come from a Slavic country.
I am lucky to survive and so grateful that I was not permanently disfigured. I have never been vain about my appearance: I consider looks to be a gift of nature. Truth be told, I was done with modeling. I was tall early in life and my youth kept me slim (skinny really, but it was all young metabolism. I was never one to starve myself!) But when I approached adulthood, my body filled out, my hips widened and I was told that quite simply “my body shape was not in demand.”
I didn’t get obese. In fact my waist appears very narrow because of my hip flare. I actually look like I am wearing one of those old-time Victorian corsets. Men find me sexy, but the modeling companies don’t. At 5’9″, I am a modest weight of 143; but I have curves and they want twigs.
I miss my previous appearance and mourn it as long gone. The repaired bones and nose give my face a much softer look than I used to have and old friends that haven’t seen me since the accident do not recognize me the first time I talk to them.
I am told that I am still very pretty, the surgeon was a master in his respective field, and some of the procedures I received, people pay to have done to them electively. But I cannot help being self-conscious about my appearance in public and come across shy. I guess my scars are all on the inside because even now three years later, I superimpose my appearance from before the accident over how I look now. When I look in the mirror, even though I am completely healed, I still see the swollen discolored tissue in the changed lines of my face.
I used to be very outgoing and liked attention. I know that girl is still inside me somewhere, but these days, it takes a lot for me to be comfortable with new people and to open up.
After much coursework and time spent in classes for the necessary certification, we had completed the necessary course requirements to become a level-one trauma center! YAY! It was time to celebrate!
I was totally bursa anal yapan escort excited about getting ready for the evening! It had been many months since I was just able to go out and enjoy myself without having to feel guilty about not studying, and I was going to celebrate this evening to the fullest!
I chose to wear a really cute black dress from Twiden’s Boutique; a local specialty shop that sells fine quality customized “habillements”. I prefer tailored because of my unique dimensions and Twiden’s is quite reasonable because they vendor off the rack dresses and then provide the necessary dimensional corrections. It was quite hot! A sleeveless summer lace princess-waist European style dress casual from Mona Vie; it made my pale skin look extra creamy. I did not spend a lot on it, but it looked like a million bucks in my opinion. It appeared formal and straight-laced from the front (think Audrey Hepburn classic) and showed just a hint of décolletage. The open-back however had two sheer lace panels depicting stylized angel wings, situated in such a way that it would be obvious that the lady was not wearing a bra. It flared a bit from where a faux corset peplum gathered underneath my breasts, emphasizing them (not that they really needed it) and de-emphasizing my waist to hip ratio. The corset-sash prevented it from looking like maternity wear and the skirt hugged my hips extending to a bit below where my thigh-high stockings ended.
In retrospect, I prolly should have at least worn panties, but I didn’t want a panty-line to show. I felt a bit naughty and daring for the first time in forever! Besides, this was a celebration and I thought who knows: tonight I might get lucky! (Yeah right!)
It took a bit to find the perfect shoes to go along, but I finally found them at Nine West. Four-inch slingback heels and I topped out at 6’1″. If my height intimidated any man, he was no man I could be interested in!
I treated myself to a “mani-pedi” and chose Hard Candy baby blue shimmery polish, but on my left ring finger I had them paint little red heart balloons or flowers on the nail as a cute affectation. Then, I went home and shaved.
Of course, since I was not going to be wearing any underwear, I fully shaved everything. It had been quite a while since I had gone full Brazilian, but I am trimmed enough on a daily basis that the extra effort did not cause any irritation I was glad to note! I am not usually so OCD about my personal hairy hygiene, but for some reason, I felt that tonight would be special!
And, I went with a new haircut. My usual hair-style was to wear it all one length, long to the middle of my back. I could braid it or put it in a bun for work, but I felt like a change was long overdue. I kept my natural hair color, a strawberry blond (not ginger!) but not blonde either. (It is actually this side of sandy-blonde, but everyone insists on calling it red for some reason.) Anyway, I went with an asymmetrical bob that left my hair chin-length on my right and shoulder-length on my left side. I thought it was really cute! And also, I went with natural mineral blush for my face. I am lucky that my natural complexion does not need a lot of care and subterfuge.
I left my natural freckles unconcealed as a natural look; (I have just a slight dusting across my nose) to show that I am au naturale! Light cobalt liner to frame my almond shaped eyes and some mascara, some lip gloss and I was done. I prefer nature to art in a woman’s look! My scent was Tuca Tuca by Lush (I like it; a little vanilla, a little sandalwood) and I spritzed myself (pulse-points and behind the knees) before declaring myself finished.
I looked in the mirror to check my look. Maybe it was the new haircut. Maybe (and quite honestly) it was the fact that this was the first time since the accident that I really attempted to take care of my appearance; I liked what I saw!
Since I look different than I used to, I could finally view myself with an objective eye. It was like looking at a picture of a totally different person.
In the mirror I saw a cute little red-headed girl with a freckled nose and perky boobies in a little black dress. I gave myself a little wink and I thought “here is a girl that would be fun to know!”
I turned so my back faced the mirror bent over just a bit and the image changed! There was a naughty little red-haired girl with a great ass and more than a bit of stocking line showing: she looked ready to play! I couldn’t resist and gave myself another wink and immediately flushed because it looked like an invitation coupled with implication! WOW! I better be careful not to attract the wrong kind of attention!
To complete my look, I chose a little bit frivolous, a little bit juvenile jewelry. I had remounted some mood stone jewelry from when I was a teenager and I thought; why not? They would look good as little heart studs in my ears. bursa rus escort And I chose my matching mood crystal pendant necklace and mood ring on my ring finger. A little bit of whimsy just in case I met my life partner / soul mate.
Ever since I was a little girl, I imagined that my soul mate would know me through my mood jewelry!
Funny, I must have been still a little bit stressed because the mood jewelry stayed black showing I was tense and a bit overworked. I thought hopefully the color would change tonight! 🙂
We were to meet at the bar of a little Mexican restaurant named “Cantina’s” and then decide where to go from there. This place was famed for their margaritas and although I do not like tequila straight, the mix in these drinks was quite powerful and tasty!
I managed to score a parking place for my little red Hyundai Tiburan (my “road shark”) right next to the door! “Luck is with me tonight!” I thought to myself.
I parted the doors and ignored the hostess’ query about seating.
“I am meeting some friends at the bar,” I said and breezed on past.
I walked to the bar and stopped short: I did not see anyone I recognized.
How embarrassing to arrive at a location without any friends! Going to places by myself was never a problem for me before the accident, but I just did not go out by myself since.
I almost turned around and left, but I stopped myself with some inner dialogue. “You cannot keep running from life. Now you saw yourself in that mirror earlier and you have to admit; you look good!”
I realized that I was grabbing the strap of my purse like a lifeline, relaxed my grip and fished out my cell phone. I then realized in my eagerness, I had arrived about 30 minutes too early.
The course ended on a Monday and everyone wanted to have the days after the final to unwind and to distance themselves from the classwork. The weekend was out because some had planned vacations to celebrate; that left Thursday as the only night we could all get together and fairly early in the evening too because some of the nurses had families.
I didn’t plan a vacation; where was I going to go by myself? But I did take the weekend off with the idea to take care of some of the chores and personal business that I had neglected. It would be so very good to have some time to relax and just not have to have a care!
I scoped out the bar to see who was there. I had originally looked for some familiar faces, but did not recognize anyone. It was not very busy that night with only about four different groups of people. There was a young couple (maybe out on a date?), three older gentlemen that had the ease of company and casual look that suggested they were regulars, three young “bro’s” that looked like they had been torn between meeting at the gym or meeting at the bar for brewskies, and some blonde lady sitting at the far end with her back to me. The young couple was talking to the older guys so I decided to stand on the right side of them, away from the frat boys. They looked like they were a few pints into their cups and I was not there to put up with any foolishness.
I went up to the bar and ordered a frozen margarita so I could just sip it to make time. I took a seat on one of the stools and casually looked about the place. I sat there sipping my drink for what seemed like an eternity when I thought to check my phone for messages or email; or anything because I was so completely bored! I had a group text from Katy, one of my coworkers and read that she was not going to make it because Tyler her oldest had gotten sick and needed some TLC. I texted her back saying that I understood and hoped that it wouldn’t ruin her coming vacation.
As I had my phone in my hand another text came in from Steven. It was a reply to the party text Katy had sent and he said he was having car trouble and would have to bow out. Well, eight of us had taken the course and only four had wanted to go celebrate. That left me, my two instructors, and Sam.
I had turned down Sam several times when had asked me out because even before someone had told me he was married, I had worked with him long enough to figure out that he was a player. I am not innocent, but a lifestyle of serial short relationships is not for me. Besides, I am not going to have an affair with a co-worker. I have seen how that usually blows up and makes a job miserable.
Predictably, Sam sent out a text saying he had decided that he just wasn’t able to make it either. Some lame excuse about “being a bit tired an all… hoped everyone understood”. But I was relieved that he had: even though that meant that the night was a bust for sure. He was quite persistent. I guess that fifth time I had turned him down was the charm.
I sent the obligatory, “well, it would have been fun but u guys do what u have to do … congrats on passing the exams!!! See you in a week.”
Dr. “Beecham” (as her name is pronounced anglicized) and Dr. Sherr our main instructor were hardly the type of people who would just hang out with little ole’ me. For one, there was the obvious difference in status and second, they were a little bit older; I think Dr. Beauchamp was 35 and Dr. Sherr was in his fifties.
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