The Legs are the First to Go

I was speaking to my mum this afternoon, sharing with her about a new book I'd started reading, entitled, 'I Love a Man in Umiform.' It is this woman's story as an army wife.
I love Lily. Her book is fresh and honest and real. I can relate to so much of Lily's story. Her marriage to her soldier began around the same time Mark and I were growing from friendship to courtship. Like ours, the War on Terror as been a part of their lives, their marriage.
I was sharing with my mum that one of the disadvanges of not having children (it hasn't been from a lack of trying) is that I don't have little people that give me a reason to get up in the morning, to shower, dress and eat well. Little people to help with homeworl and pick up after.
Who have their daddy's eyes and I can at night.
But then I have to remember that I am Somebody, that I have to get up, pray, shower, dress, workout and eat for me. I have to take care of me for my beloved and for myself.
"But you know mummie, the first thing to go is the legs. Women stop shaving their legs when their men are deployed. After all, the one who really cares isn't here to notice."
She roared with laugher.
"I never thought about it," Mummie said after she stopped coughing.
It is true. We stop shaving legs, binki lines, etc. Sometimes it is so bad we don't get hair and nails done. You know, those lovely things we do to feel like girls.
Funny, it was Mark who broke that habit.
When he calls he ask what I am waering, is my hair braided or free from the retricting plaits? "How long is it now?"
What I wearing; my black yoga pants and t-shirt, his old army sweats as PJ's, his favorite pair of jeans.?
Am I using his favorite scented lotion that reminds him of Morcoccan nights?
I realize this was the reason I needed to take care of me.
It gives my soldier one less thing to worry about.