June 17, 2020:
I feel like I’m being taught over and over again how nothing I perceive in this world matters… and ironically, when I find myself aware of that, I find I love parts of myself more as the years go by. I love the way I embrace playing on the Earth naked. I love that I feel excitement letting my hair grow out. I go through phases of course, but my favorite is being my raw, natural self. I’ve had several men guide me back to embracing my womanhood, men who shifted my perspective on the idea of beauty significantly. I’ve had two especially beautiful men, who were beyond grateful to receive me in my rawness. They both expressed their disappointment that so many women feel they need to shave because they think it appears better or they do it because society says it is ‘normal.’ I remember being bullied in 7th grade because I had hair on my legs and feeling really embarrassed, as if nobody would take me as I was. At that age (even now), I genuinely didn’t understand why that seemed necessary. I am grateful for the men who stroked their fingertips along my hairy legs and had a look of awe in their eyes. I am grateful for the men I met throughout my travels who adored me as I ran naked and wild, with twigs and pines tangled in my hair… the men who danced with me, who met me at my wildness. You know who you are and I love you.
I feel like I’m being taught over and over again how nothing I perceive in this world matters… and ironically, when I find myself aware of that, I find I love parts of myself more as the years go by. I love the way I embrace playing on the Earth naked. I love that I feel excitement letting my hair grow out. I go through phases of course, but my favorite is being my raw, natural self. I’ve had several men guide me back to embracing my womanhood, men who shifted my perspective on the idea of beauty significantly. I’ve had two especially beautiful men, who were beyond grateful to receive me in my rawness. They both expressed their disappointment that so many women feel they need to shave because they think it appears better or they do it because society says it is ‘normal.’ I remember being bullied in 7th grade because I had hair on my legs and feeling really embarrassed, as if nobody would take me as I was. At that age (even now), I genuinely didn’t understand why that seemed necessary. I am grateful for the men who stroked their fingertips along my hairy legs and had a look of awe in their eyes. I am grateful for the men I met throughout my travels who adored me as I ran naked and wild, with twigs and pines tangled in my hair… the men who danced with me, who met me at my wildness. You know who you are and I love you.
