Thank U Falettin' Me Be Micelf

America has begun the process of focusing on everything there is to be thankful for. Although it wasn't a landslide, the recent election gave at least 53 percent of the country a MAJOR early Thanksgiving present. I'm sure that many a Turkey Day prayer, uttered over many a table groaning with delectable goodies, will begin with a note of gratitude about Barack Obama's amazing victory.

In about three hours, I'll be heading to my new Cousin George's house here in Nairobi for my first Expat Thanksgiving. I actually don't know what to expect. I'm assuming most of the people there will be Americans, and that they'll already know each other. I'm expecting to feel a bit like Oliver Twist in the beginning, stretching out my bowl and pleading for "Some more, please?" while everybody else relaxes and shares inside jokes about surviving life in Kenya.

I'm sure it'll be fine, though. That's in large part because I have reached yet another major milestone in my life. Lately, I realize
that I have permanently shed my last microliter of concern about what any other living creature might think about any aspect of anything I might say, do, wear, or think, etc.

I mean, I do not give a fat rat's ass about any of that stuff anymore.

Let me see if I can try to explain this in a way that doesn't sound like I've become completely unhinged. I think the simplest way is to describe my daily routine of dressing for work. I'm actually amazed by how quickly it all comes together, once I've had some coffee and read the papers. 20 years ago, I'd literally agonize each morning, or the night before, about making sure I picked the right outfit, or that whatever I eventually chose was absolutely perfect.

I spent seeming ages on my make-up and hair. I couldn't walk out the door unless every element was in perfect harmony with every other element. It's like I was dressing to please every real and/or potential person I might meet. Oh, and it didn't matter how uncomfortable the shoes or clothes might be, or how heavy the foundation that was clogging my pores was, just as long as I thought it made me look good.

Whatever that meant.

Here's my new routine. Every morning, I untie the silk scarf that was wrapped around my head the night before, brush my toofusses, and run my fingers through my locs while I'm standing under the shower. Then I swirl a little Bare Minerals in Warmth on my mug, slap on a hint of shadow and dap on some mascara. About the only thing I seriously ponder is which saucy shade of lipstick to wear...I guess I got a little crazy at the Chanel counter at Lord and Taylor's in New York recently, so I'm actually enjoying being a bit edgy in that department.

As for clothing, if it doesn't cut off circulation in my waist or pinch my corns, it'll do.

Don't get me wrong...any of you who know me know Rachella will never lose her wardrobe flava. I still LOVE good clothes and shoes, and I know what I look good in, and what I don't look good in (another benefit of getting older). But now, I'm not gilding the lily. No, I take that back. The problem is, I WASN'T gilding the lily in the past, because I didn't believe I WAS a lily.

I didn't know that confidence and self-assuredness are the most attractive adornments a woman can have.

There are other examples of how I just don't give a figgy pudding about too much of what anybody might think these days. For example, every day in the morning newsmeeting, I find myself speaking up, interrupting folks, pointing out stuff they've missed...and you should see how these Kenyan men look at me!! Even after 5 months, when you think they'd have gotten used to this uncouth American wench speaking when she hasn't been granted permission, they still look at me like, "Is this woman completely mad ??"

I'm all like, "AND? WHAT??" I'm not doing it just for the sake of being a pain in the ass, because invariably, I'm making valid points. But it's just so liberating to express myself authoritatively in a group that could have had me stoned for doing it just a few decades back.

I guess I'm saying that one of the things I'm MOST thankful for during this transcontinental Turkey Day is that I truly believe that I have finally and completely grown into myself. So much so that when I describe myself as a hot old broad, I actually believe it!

Let's see if I still feel this way tomorrow, when it will be impossible to find something that doesn't cut off circulation in my waist after I eat as much as I plan to eat at Cousin George's house.