Since my buddy VDeV tagged me on this one I’m going to weigh in if you’ll pardon the pun.

My ass journey is almost identical to hers, Tracy, and all I can say is why don’t we all travel more. To wit: there are tribes in Africa which value an ass and set of hips that you could set a smorgasbord on with room to spare. Those are considered to be the most beautiful in their villages.

When we allow ourselves ( kindly my hand is way up here) to hate/love/defile/despise our bodies because some asswipe like Kim Kardashian- let me say what I think of her family and that pyscho fuckwit husband of hers why don’t I- happens to have an expansive booty, then shame on us for being so malleable, so gullible, so easily convinced that what we have and are aren’t enough. Never will be.

Of course I care about my ass. Far more than I should. By the same token I am far more motivated to have a strong and powerful body than one that fits current trends. Fuck current trends, especially when led by so-called “sheroes” and Instagram so-called influencers with scrambled dogshit for grey matter. That we as women give our immense power away worrying about the contours of our bodies — again my hand is in the fucking stratosphere here as my generation’s model was goddamned Twiggy, for fuck’s sake-then we deserve what we get. Constant, useless worry and fear, loss of quality time and life, and the forever chimera chase of perfection that doesn’t exist. Except that we already are just fine as we are. I realize that this doesn’t move the economy forward, but it sure releases us from prison to live our gifts.

But hey, that’s just me. I’m still fighting that battle, the societal messaging is just that powerful.

Last night here in Mongolia, in our kitchen tent my guide and driver were talking as the sun set behind us. The driver asked me for a photo of myself as younger woman. The implication was clear. As I settled in for the night, a blue black sky overhead filled with stars you and I can rarely see any more, I caught myself thinking about a face lift. A fucking face lift.

I’m on the goddamned steppes of Central Asia and I’m thinking about a goddamned FACELIFT?

Look, I believe in a girl’s right to have a bit of work done. I sure have. But as an immediate and defensive reaction to some guy’s request for a photo of a younger me?

This is how tender we all are to observations about our appearance. We’re all vain. We all want to be considered hot, juicy, gorgeous, sexy. Of course we do. All I am asking -and again I direct this at myself as much as anyone-is at what price our humanity?

Written by

Horizon Huntress, prize-winning author, adventure traveler, boundary-pusher, wilder, veteran, aging vibrantly. I own my sh*t. Let’s play!

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