I'm a rock star, but now I look like one.

Suddenly my inner teen has returned and I realized I never was one.

Never as a teenager did I rebel and wear ridiculous clothes. Never as a teen did I return home with hickeys and stay out at night.

But now my hair is ridiculous and every night I have hickeys on my neck. And bite marks. And bruises. And other sexual maulings.

A wall has been plowed and it feels incredible. All this confidence I knew I had has suddenly appeared in the open.

I'm more brazen now and charming and strong.

Today I dropped $200 on Gucci glasses and didn't care then left the building with rockstar divinity.

I felt like Lil' Kim. Like the person I'm supposed to be: Loud, fabulous, lovable, great. And extravagant beyond all recognition.

A year or two ago I would have freaked at the expense of $8. Now I'm throwing hundreds like it aint. no. thang.

Fat golden G's on my glasses. Bling Bling. I'm stylin.

I smile. I'm a rockstar. My booty is beautiful. I'm practically there.

I count. I count.