And the good days just keep getting better.

I simply adore how I absolutely cannot fall asleep at 2 in the morning. It's flippin' wonderful.

Sarcasm? Actually, not. I really do love being the only person up. My favorite time of the day is when everyone has already gone to bed, and I can roam freely.

I hate silence. I honestly do, but I love listening. Granted, people who know me well may not think this, because once you get me going, I have the habit of not being able to shut up. In reality, however, when nobody's around, I find myself so content and happy. Exactly like I feel right now. I'm in Florence, of all places, and I can hear everything.

Cars and motorcycles are screaming by my window, even at 2 in the morning. It's noise, without being overwhelming. Nobody's screaming. Nobody's music is swaying my emotions. I don't feel forced into conversation, I don't feel awkward being left out of one. I don't have to worry about people judging me for how I spend my time. I'm free to do whatever it is my heart pleases, and at this very moment, I'm choosing to blog.

I'm slowly trying to come out of my shell. Though I will admit, a shot of liquid courage helps quite a bit.

I had the most interesting experience last night. For the very first time, I went to a nightclub, I drank, I danced, and I even let myself get a little freaky on the dance floor.

Yeah. That's right. Oh, italian men, you certainly do know how to push a girl's buttons.

I promised myself that I'd let go, that I'd live unbridled, and fuck, last night was certainly the beginning of a whole new side of me.

Buzzed enough to not give a damn, but not drunk enough to forget when to say "No."

Last night's adventures caused me to have a little revelation today. For the past two years, I've worked my ass off. Literally. I used to eat a lot of crap that wasn't good for me. In quantities that make me sick to even think about. At one point in time, I weighed 196 pounds. At 5'4". I was miserable. Absolutely miserable. I hated my body, I hated myself, I hated anyone who made me feel like the typical fat chick, and I was constantly blaming people for the way I was.

In all honesty though, the only person I had to blame was myself.

I've always been chunky. Ever since I can remember, but once I hit middle school, subject was just thrown out of proportion. You know those people who just eat their emotions? Yeah. That was me. I'd eat when I was depressed. I'd eat when I was bored. I'd eat because I was hungry, I'd eat just so I could eat. And then my 16th birthday came around.

I was going to have an amazing party. Masquerade themed. I ended up finding a dress online for 75 bucks. Absolutely gorgeous dress. It got to my doorstep and it was slightly too small. So what did I do? Diet, of course. Only problem was that all I ate was fucking salad. For two months, I ate salad and swam like a beast to fit into that dress. The party was flippin' amazing though. And that dress fit me like a glove. It was perfect.

Two months later though, things weren't so perfect. Of course, I started eating like a normal human being again, and then I started eating all the things I missed eating while dieting. Soon, I was back to my old habits, and those 10 pounds I lost came right back, and even invited their friends to the party, adding another 10 pounds.

They weren't kidding when they say it comes back double.

After high school though, I told myself I was done being "the fat chick." I was sick of having all of these beautiful, skinny friends. I wanted to be them. At the very least, I promised myself that I would not gain the "Freshman Fifteen." Though I didn't go to the gym as often as I should have, I did manage to keep the weight off, and in fact, lost a few pounds. It wasn't anything super magical, but it was a start.

The real kicker was when I took a nutrition course the following fall.

Talk about scare tactics. I'd never been more afraid of being overweight in my life.

From one semester, I ended up shedding about 20 pounds. Another semester, another 15 pounds. A summer, 10 pounds.

I currently stand at 5'4". And I weigh approximately (the last chance I had to check was before I left for Italy) 150 pounds. I'm not perfect, by any means. I still don't like parts of my body, but in two years I went from a size 18 jean to a size 6.

So where the hell is this all going? Why the hell did I just ramble out a whole story about how I've got body image issues?

Because last night, for the first time in a very long time. I felt sexy. Not in a "Oh, I feel nice, I should take a picture while it lasts" way. I felt genuinely sexy. Someone wanted me. So badly that even when I went to go get another drink, got separated for a good 20 minutes, he came looking for me. Granted. I know he was probably just as smashed as I was, if not more. It doesn't change the fact though that he made me feel like that penny that was abandoned on the pavement, that someone decided to pick up and stick in their pocket for good luck. We did things on that dance floor that would make my mother blush, and would make my father want to lock me in my room, but I don't give a shit.

I'm twenty years old, damn it. I'm in the prime of my life, I'm in one of the most beautiful cities on this earth, and if I want to go to a nightclub and make out with a complete stranger on the dance floor, then fuck yes, I'm going to. If that makes me a slut, then fine. Whatever. I'm a slut. So shoot me.

I woke up this morning feeling sexy. I walked the streets feeling sexy. It's amazing what a little bit of attention can do to a woman's slowly decreasing esteem.

American men are idiots. Never knowing what's there until it's gone. Foreign men live it up, when they see something they want, they go after it. It's almost like a hunt. They know how to play this game, and slowly, they're teaching me.

The chase is on.

And I want in.

Though this post is (finally) ending, my saga's just beginning. The taste of freedom I got last night has sparked something completely new, and I'm gonna do whatever I can to feed that flame. Off to rock some friggin' awesome yoga and then head to bed.

Live it up, you never know when it's all gonna come crashing down again.