Victoria's Secret is Every Woman's Secret

The news knocked the wind out of me, for a day. Then I started breathing again. I want to appear non-chalant and all grown up about this, so I will say no more. I am in acceptance already, I think!
I went to see my sister, Mojgan, who was soothing and supportive, as usual, and stayed a bit longer than I had originally intended. Then, aimlessly, I went to a little shopping therapy at Victoria’s Secret, buying myself things I didn’t really need, but which, in their frivolity, made me feel a little better. I tried calling another friend to talk about this, but when I got the voicemail, I left an ordinary, “cheerful Nazy” message and hung up. I got an SMS from a good friend and it felt good, but couldn’t consolidate enough energy to reply. I let the feelings of different texture and force just envelope me and carry me.
When I got home to my empty apartment, devoid of the usual noises of the boys who had independent weekend plans, I had some wine, smoked many cigarettes, listened to some good music and started writing. I spent the entire night, writing an article for Iranian.com. I didn’t go to bed until I had sent it to Mr. Javid. It was 5:00 a.m. when I finally did fall asleep, lighter and a lot more peaceful with myself.
In the morning, the things I had bought in a haze the night before, appeared silly and even more frivolous. I will keep them, I decided. They are the new additions to all the symbols and signs which characterize my new life, witnessing and collaborating with the notion that out of all that pain, a new Nazy is born.
The big lesson of the big news was: I did the right thing.

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