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My online “home” is a debate message board where I hang out with some of the coolest.ladies.ever. (And a few guys too.) Not only are they smart and funny but a lot of them have a great sense of style…and the checkbooks to have that style.

These women are the best when it comes to shopping, clothing and hairstyle advice. Need a makeover? Post pictures and let ‘em have at it. Need to find a little black dress, sexy red slingbacks, or the perfect white button-down? Ask and they will find it.

I totally admire them but I admit, I’m also a little jealous. Considering that I don’t ever plan on getting married again and I seriously doubt I will ever make it into law school, I don’t see having that sort of disposable income in my future. So, yeah, it sucks trying to figure out how I can get the same results with my $20 Revlon flat iron as they do with their $100 Chi, or finding a $30 look-alike of their $300 Michael Kors purse. It just ain’t gonna happen for me.

So what are my options?

1) Find and marry a rich guy. If only it was just that easy. First, I value looks love over money, so I could never marry just for money. Second, the idea of marrying any guy makes me queasy.

2) Become independently wealthy. Yeah, like I wouldn’t have done that by now if I knew how. I can manage, I may even live comfortably, but Wealthy and I were never meant to be.

3) Fake it. That’s do-able. I know how to bargain shop. I know about clearance sales and thrift stores. Hell, I have purses from Coach, Prada and Kate Spade, none of which I spent more than $20 on. And I do have some nice clothes and about 30 - ok, 40 - pairs of shoes. But what do I end up wearing? Vintage tees, yoga pants and Nikes.

I think I’m having an early mid-life crisis or something. I’ll be 37 next month and even though I look younger than I am, I don’t feel like dressing younger than I am anymore. I colored my hair a dark brown/almost black with the intention of putting Manic Panic Vampire streaks in it because now that I no longer work in a law office I can do that. But now I just don’t really feel like it. And a few weeks ago, I bought some pointy toed, black patent, knee high boots - I have a weakness for boots - but they have yet to have the crumpled paper removed from their insides because I just can’t see gracing the concrete floors of the grocery store with their presence.

Ugh. I feel like I’ve become so…..boring. How did this happen?

I’ve lived in Europe. I used to box. I was a rollergirl. I used to go out to clubs and let cute guys buy me shots. I got tattoos and had things pierced. I was hot. I was fun. I was intoxicating.

And now look at me. It’s 9:30 on a Saturday night and I’m on the couch with Princess watching Noggin.

Le sigh. Oh well, at least I know where I’m going to wake up in the morning. That’s more than I can say for my old days. So maybe boring isn’t so bad after all.