It had been four months since I've had any sort of grooming. Four months! That is a long, long time to go ungroomed, au naturale, unfettered and free with my pores flapping in the breeze. I feel a little bit like a hippie stereotype--not the pretty kind of hippie with long, shining hair down to her waist, interwoven with flowers, garbed (because hippies are "garbed") in floaty layers of undyed cotton, eating organic vegetables and petting deer in the golden sunshine. No, I'm the kind of hippie that smells like hashish and has dirty toes and who knows what's going on in my underpants? You don't want to know. At least I'm a vegetarian. An ungroomed vegetarian.

I moved away from my battery of aestheticians--the guy who does my hair, the lady who does my eyebrows (and my mustache), the lady who does my girl waxing, the lady who does my nails. And I have only just realized how awfully spoiled and terrible and expensive that sounds. At least I'm not getting facials every week and a massage and reiki energy work and my ass accupunctured and my colon massaged and my chi read, right? Yeah, okay, yes, I'm high maintenance anyway. Yet, I moved away from my beloveds, and I gave it all up. I just didn't want to start all over again. I spent years finding professionals, and that kind of effort is exhausting. I didn't know that I'd find anyone to match up to the team I had assembled, who kept me looking--well, as good as I ever get.

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