If you were going to take your under nourished femme part, complete with high heels, garters, tutus, and fancy dresses, on an exclusive vacation to perform a ritual of acknowledgement, where would you go?
My answer, apparently, is to a log cabin built in 1907 in a rainforest, with no plumbing or electricity or potable water. Win.
Look at it. Isn’t it sweet?
I already have childcare and about 7 pairs of fabulous thrift store shoes. The idea of shitting in an outhouse and pumping water from a well on my femme-part vacation fits perfectly. My femme is fucking fierce- a survivor. Some cushy vacation with a hot tub and room service would make her fucking antsy. This? This is perfect.
I’m so excited. And yes, I am totally cracked right now. It’s true. It’s okay. I am learning to accept and appreciate and be alone with the parts of me that generally, I’d rather not acknowledge or sit with. I’m choosing to move towards those parts.
More specifically, to take them to an isolated cabin along a glacial-fed river in the rainforest to come to terms with each other by firelight. Apparently.
No one mention bears.