I didn't even remember how long it had been since my therapist and I had had the conversation, but I felt like it may have been a half a year. "Did you marry a woman you yourself wanted to be?", she queried. My denial was effortless, because I hadn't. I was sure I had married for the right reasons. Still, though, it was unquestionable that I'd tried to live vicariously many experiences I felt were denied to me. I acknowledged it to her as we talked, but it hadn't been a recent realization.
If nothing else, I certainly felt my progress had made it very easy for me to neither want nor need someone else to live the life I wanted. It was now seemingly in my grasp, if not fully realized. And so, I pushed on through the beating sun, dress flapping behind me occasionally in the wind, tights keeping my legs from sunburn, through the unshaded countryside toward my goal in the next state.
You can, by the way, wear tights under your dress while camping. But only if you want to.