I wore the bikini today. I’ve almost worn it a number of times before, only to change into a less revealing suit at the last minute.
I decided to take a self-care day. I didn’t really feel like it. I almost canceled on myself. So many reasons not to drive the three hours each way to the hot springs my husband and I last soaked at on our road trip honeymoon 15 years ago.
The world and women’s rights are crumbling around me. I vacillate between rage, compartmentalization, disbelief, apathy, helplessness, hopelessness, and numbness. Cannot compute.
So, at Adam’s urging, I take a rest day.
This website is the culmination of wanting to build something uncensored. I’m going to keep wearing the f-ing bikini.
This 44 year-old body, its squishiness, its wrinkles, and gray hairs has housed four seedlings and birthed two that are now their own amazing, challenging, beautiful, intelligent creative, and sometimes independent humans.
I deserve to wear the bikini.
It’s not only about the suit. This is about highering up to new levels and getting out of my own way.
It’s red with flowers and blue lace trim. Red to match my toenails. Both uncharacteristic of my aim for perfection, highly buttoned up self.
Photo by Karina Miranda on Unsplash (not my body :-))
