For so long, I might only shave and moisturize  my scaly legs, wear good undies, dress in respectable clothing, or wear makeup if I were going to be seen by “someone good.” Sad but true.

Now, I choose these things for me, for my own self-care. Self-care is unnatural for me. It is so much easier to neglect myself.

I’m no longer motivated by the opinions of those who wish to hand down their judgment or favor. Big news—the judgers do not have what I need. Their opinions are not my business, and I need not turn to them to see where I stand.

I don’t need permission to take good care of myself, and I don’t do it at them. I have learned to do it because it is responsible and satisfying. I am amused by my bragging about allowing my hairS to become greasy, my legs to go from prickly to furry, to those who need to judge.

I recognize that there are times when artful makeup, grooming, and outfitting are called for. Times when they are desired. AND times when it is totally unnecessary to concern myself. My worthiness is real, no matter. And my self-esteem tells me so.

Angel pie boyfriend returns in a few hours. Shaved legs and cute undies are always fun and appreciated, but never a requirement. Perhaps something other than yoga pants and a tank will be applied to cover my hairless, greaseless frame.

He is the first person over the age of 10 who has ever loved me deeply and unconditionally. Even after a year, I am still trying to get used to a nurturing and expansive relationship. Gentle, strong, wise, self-assured, he is one wholesome badass motherfukker.