I'll admit it, the year was off to a great start. Lots of new and exciting stuff was happening to ol' Rox. While lately there have been the usual ups and downs, today's news knocked the wind out of me... Anna Nicole Smith has long been a regular target of mine. I can truly appreciate anyone brave enough to be a parody of themselves, and Anna Nicole made it an art form.
A poor, dumb girl from Mexia that learned early on how to find self-worth in the attentions of the opposite sex. She battled her demons by putting on a big smile, something tight and low cut, and telling the world that she was willing to be a walking, talking sexual fantasy. A Frankenstein constructed of naive stupidity, unleashed libido, indignant fury and silicone. If you didn't respect her, she didn't care. If you desired her, you fed the fire.
We live in a world where fashion says women should be built like teenaged boys and ladies should dress and act like men to earn their place in the boardroom. Forgive me, but I'll choose to be seen as the sexed-up, shameless flirt, that could just maybe rock your little world, every time. I do so because sometimes in life the easiest way to hide a hardened heart, a patched-up spirit, and a grateful soul is under a little black dress adorned with spiked heels. Love is fleeting, life is short, and you've gotta grab all the good memories you can get. Anna Nicole knew this.
So next time I put on a pair of tight jeans, a low cut blouse, enough make-up to make Mary Kay herself blush, and drink beyond the point of good judgment, I'll be thinking, "Anna Nicole, this one's for you, baby!"
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