I’m lucky enough to be on a vacation with the love of my life.
We did not go far. But we are away. We’ve had time for lots of sun, sand, biking, food, wine, talking, reading, walking. You get the idea. And lots of time to think.
Away from the hubbub of the city, my thoughts have clarified in ways they never have before. And without the aid of anything more hallucinogenic than a cold glass of rose.
It boils down to this. Wear the shorts.
Not much of a mantra you say? True. But for me it is. Ever since I was called out at age 14 for wearing shorts to church by our very own Roman Catholic church lady, I’ve always taken care to dress “appropriately.”
On some level it might make sense to be concerned about being appropriate. But then it starts to filter into other areas of life. And it turns into judgement if you let it. And I let it. It stifles something creative. You probably haven’t had this struggle. Or you figured it out long ago.
But for me it’s finally time to embrace my inner I don’t give a fuck.
It means I’ve let go of self judgment. People will do that anyway, why should I do it for them?
I wear the shorts because how else can I tan my legs?
I wear the shorts and write what I want to write.
Wear the shorts and stop being afraid.
Strive for excellence in all you do but wear the shorts because life is fleeting.