Campfire? I Hardly Know Her

Have you ever been camping?

Oh honey, I have been camping. Once.
And let me tell you, it was less “Into the Wild” and more “Into the Inevitable Nervous Breakdown.”

It all started with a man. (Doesn’t it always?)
He was tall, charming, outdoorsy… and had the audacity to say, “You’ll love it, Luce. It’s just you, nature, and simplicity.”

Simplicity? SIMPLICITY?
Darling, I bring three moisturizers for a weekend at home.

Still, I thought, “You know what? Maybe I need this. A chance to unplug. Reconnect with the stars. Find my inner wilderness goddess.”
Reader, the only thing I found was a beetle in my bra.

So off we went to some so-called scenic forest in the middle of nowhere. He brought gear. I brought a portable mirror and a thermos filled with lavender Earl Grey and deep, unresolved skepticism.

The first red flag? No bathrooms.
He said, “Just go in the woods.”
I said, “I didn’t realize we were auditioning for Survivor: Lip Gloss Edition.”

We set up the tent together. By which I mean he did it while I held one pole for six minutes and reapplied mascara because the humidity betrayed me. Then came the sleeping bags. I stared at mine like it had wronged me in a past life. Because let’s be real — nothing says “sleep well” like zipping yourself into a human burrito of nylon and regret.

Nightfall came. The sounds? Unholy.
There was something outside rustling aggressively and I was 96% sure it was either a bear or a squirrel with unresolved anger issues.
My gentleman friend said, “It’s fine.”
I said, “Do you know how many horror movies start with those exact words?!”

The next morning I emerged — tangled hair, raccoon eyes (not the animal, the mascara smears), and a firm belief that beds are society’s greatest achievement. He looked at me with pity and said, “You’re not really the camping type, are you?”

Darling, I said it loud and proud:
“I am the glamping type. The ‘French-press-coffee-on-a-porch-in-a-silk-robe’ type. The ‘oh-look-the-cabin-has-a-sauna’ type.”
Nature is beautiful. I just prefer to admire it through a screen door.

So yes, I have camped.
I got the bug spray, the sleepless night, the existential crisis — and the T-shirt (it says “I Tried”).
And now I know.

Some people find themselves in the woods.
I find myself in a clawfoot tub, sipping tea and journaling about the time a raccoon made eye contact with me and I considered signing over the lease.

But hey — we try new things. We laugh. We grow.
And then we book a spa day.

Stay fabulous,
Luce 💋

Like what you read? Darling, this is just the beginning.

Psst… if you liked this, you might want to swing by Luce’s Corner this Sunday at 9 a.m. — subscribers get a little something extra. Just between us.