Counting Blessings (Again)

Decided today that I have been spending too much time beating myself up recently, and this is not at all in keeping with my 'living without apology' (ie not refusing to apologise when you've been naughty, but refusing to apologise for who you are) stance. I know I am often trashy and messy and shy and unconfident and grumpy and stressy and occassionally hysterical, but I am also supportive, generous, funny, intelligent, caring, gorgeous, kinky as all get out, determined, creative, dead sexy and a mighty fine fraggledancer when I get my groove on. And for the handful of folk who cause me grief and grumble and doubtless think I am a right prat/nutter/bitch I have a squillion dear friends and lovers and colleagues and partners in crime who love me up and cuddle me and bump and grind with me and let me drink their T and grope me in delightfully inappropriate ways and drink champagne with me and create with me and walk along sandy tracks in the National Park with me and swim at the women's pool with me and feed me yummy things and share their lives with me in so many beautiful ways.

Whilst there are still tipsy fumblings in toilet cubicles and laughs in hospital wards and kisses in the spa and snuggles in sleeping bags and stars to be gazed at from gutters I know that everything is alright in the world and maybe I am not so bad after all.

And I'm not sorry about any of it.