In Which I Admit that I Care

I always took pride in being unconventional. 

• In making do the best I could with what I had. 
• In making a lot of my clothes. 
• In not spending much money on makeup (honest, there really was a time). 
• In only outsourcing the tasks that truly needed to be outsourced because I lacked the knowledge or physical strength.

Somehow, I've started to feel simultaneously guilty, and simultaneously not guilty, for caring about things that I didn't used to care much about.

For going to barre and spending a stupid amount of money on fitness and studio memberships. 

For paying my stylist to wax my brows and dye my hair. 

In many ways, life was easier and cheaper when I just didn't give a flying fuck about as much. 

I used to say that well, I had more time than money, and thus I could do a lot of stuff that most people would outsource. Baking, home repair, gardening and landscaping, hair dye, fitness. 

At some point within the past few years, I came to the conclusion that yes, I could do this stuff, but that damn, it was consuming a heck of a lot of brain space. And if I could toss a little bit of money at the problem, even if it meant stretching my budget or carrying minimal credit card debt, that my brain suddenly had some space to decompress. Which I suppose has its own merits. Or so I'm told. 

And then, there was the stuff that I hadn't cared about, and now felt guilty about caring about. 

• Caring about actually wearing makeup every day. 
• Massages after a race weekend. 
• Waxing because it felt better than shaving (and more thorough). 
• Clothes that I didn't have to make because it turns out that buying clothes is a little less time consuming when you're on the slimmer side of things. (Although, sidenote, I've noticed that now I'm sizing out on the other direction, and that's just damn weird.)
• Nice matching planters for my container plants. 
• Actual plant trellises and supports rather than making do. 
• Not staying in the cheapest hotel just to save a buck. (Not going for the most expensive, either, but definitely keeping my brand loyalty and using Google Maps to determine whether the distance is worth it.)

It's a weird adjustment, to realize that not only I do care about some of these things, but that it's OK to care. 

I'm a girly girl, and that's OK. 

I like nice clothes, and that's OK. 

I like it when the vegetable garden and fruit plants look maintained and coordinated, and that's OK. 

And if I decide at some point that I don't like those things? Well, that's OK, too.