…we can scratch our butt and don’t give a dang who’s watching.
We only wear makeup for ourselves, because we want to, reveling and rolling in our own femininity and sexuality– that unique unnamed essence that calls to the earthy side of every one of us.
We don’t have to feed anyone anything at any particular time– instead we’ll absent-mindedly chew on whatever remnants we happen to have within reach, sip on java or tea or something stronger, and read novels at all hours of the day and night.– and we might order pizza on an irrational whim.
We don’t have to share our covers.
We can sleep kitty-corner in bed.
We have total control of the tv remote– chick flicks can abound and fill the room with estrogen and sappy scripts and teary-eyed breathless heroines or sexy heroes that never need their laundry done.
All the dirty towels on the bathroom floor are our own.
This is where *we* can be ourselves– not a facsimile of what someone else wants us to be or expects us to be. "The good, the bad, and the ugly"– all of it a fascinating juncture and venture into a world of our own creating.
And that’s ’bout all I have to say today…