shelf life

Self care has a shelf life.

I can see her there, perching, high up on her shelf.

At times, she is glossy, gleaming with color and promise, like a beacon, calling me home.

Other times, she is dusty and full of cobwebs, most assuredly stashed in the attic from Beetlejuice.

One thing she is, is constant, consistent, unchanged…if we are willing to stretch out, reach up, and feel the texture of her outward appearance on our fingertips.

Touching her is akin to crawling inside oneself and flipping that light switch on from the inside.

She's not just exercise, eating healthy, incense and candles. She’s hard shit like boundaries, knowing when to say yes and when to hold firm to that no.

Get a taste, and her exquisite flavors remain on your tongue for hours, days even. Sweet, yes, and familiar.

But the expiration date…the expiration date is a shape shifter in the form of time passing.

So stock up, bitches.

Stock up.