@reannedupris: #self #selfcare #workout #2025

Reanne Dupris™️
Reanne Dupris™️
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Region: US
Friday 28 March 2025 11:57:25 GMT
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teri3teri
Teresa Lynn :
FYI: Most people I know don’t wash their hair everyday. I know a lot of people that only wash once or twice a week.
2025-03-28 13:07:11
3
sussieq172
sussieq172 :
Always pay attention to what your body needs!
2025-03-28 12:48:05
1
teri3teri
Teresa Lynn :
It’s not a competition 💜
2025-03-28 13:05:29
1
lorraineheider
LoloConn :
I only wash my hair 3 x a week except for summer ( daily) cause my head sweats way too much lol
2025-03-28 14:44:56
1
pboone5
PBoone :
🤣🤣🤣
2025-03-28 15:06:44
1
pboone5
PBoone :
❤️
2025-03-28 15:10:01
1
stargirldeb111
Debbie aka stargirldeb111 :
yep you definitely need to listen to your body. That was smart of you.
2025-03-28 15:38:46
1
kimcrow27
user8144620393277 :
One that has back problems. I was extremely active skiing, hiking, bike riding. When tried stay off because it will effect your spine. That is something you don’t want to deal with. ❤️
2025-03-28 16:07:51
1
margaritabcantu
margaritabcantu :
💙💙💙💙💙🙏
2025-03-28 17:35:05
1
extra.sprinkles
Extra Sprinkles :
I think you were right. Tuesday was my hip replacement and today I vacuumed! Im gonna try the stairs to my bed tonight.
2025-03-28 23:10:09
1
gail.fay
Gail Fay :
👑💙🦋👑💙🦋👑💙🦋
2025-03-29 04:30:21
1
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Other Videos

Did you ever climb a hill just to breathe? Just to let the silence punch you in the gut and remind you you’re still alive? Up in the Apuseni, somewhere past the last bark of a sheepfold dog and before the edge of reason, there’s a barn that has given up on impressing anyone. The wood peels like sunburnt skin, its beams bend like tired men. It’s not picturesque. It’s not curated. It just is. But then there’s that swing—still tied to the tree like a secret never told. It hangs there, stubborn, creaking when the wind remembers to push it. A monument to a childhood that maybe wasn’t yours, but you can feel in your teeth. These hills don’t whisper; they accuse. Of forgetting. Of leaving. Of paving over stories with concrete and hashtags. Țara Moților isn’t a fairy tale, it’s a poem. A beautiful, wild, necessary poem. The land breathes like a sleeping beast, and deep beneath it, bones and ice and handprints older than history remind us we weren’t the first to cry here. The Apuseni caves don’t echo—they swallow. Villages cling to ridges like dried blood, and old women still make bread without looking at recipes. Time here doesn’t pass—it ferments. Why do we always seek the polished, the filtered, the easy? When did we start calling ruins ugly and forget they’re just survivors without makeup? That swing, that barn, that hill—they’re not waiting for you. They’re not here to make you feel better. But maybe, just maybe, if you sit on that swing and close your eyes, something buried might stir. Do you still remember what made you laugh as a child? When was the last time you truly missed something you never had? Video by @giani_frentz  [Apuseni Mountains, Țara Moților, Rustic Solitude, Abandoned Barns, Forgotten Childhoods, Carpathian Silence, Romanian Wilderness, Mountain Memories, Traditional Heritage, Ancient Caves, Nature’s Wrath, Weathered Wood, Lonely Swings, Village Remnants, Ice Caves, Spiritual Geography, Stark Beauty, Fermented Time, Rural Emotions, Ancestral Echoes] #romania #travel #apuseni #rawplaces
Did you ever climb a hill just to breathe? Just to let the silence punch you in the gut and remind you you’re still alive? Up in the Apuseni, somewhere past the last bark of a sheepfold dog and before the edge of reason, there’s a barn that has given up on impressing anyone. The wood peels like sunburnt skin, its beams bend like tired men. It’s not picturesque. It’s not curated. It just is. But then there’s that swing—still tied to the tree like a secret never told. It hangs there, stubborn, creaking when the wind remembers to push it. A monument to a childhood that maybe wasn’t yours, but you can feel in your teeth. These hills don’t whisper; they accuse. Of forgetting. Of leaving. Of paving over stories with concrete and hashtags. Țara Moților isn’t a fairy tale, it’s a poem. A beautiful, wild, necessary poem. The land breathes like a sleeping beast, and deep beneath it, bones and ice and handprints older than history remind us we weren’t the first to cry here. The Apuseni caves don’t echo—they swallow. Villages cling to ridges like dried blood, and old women still make bread without looking at recipes. Time here doesn’t pass—it ferments. Why do we always seek the polished, the filtered, the easy? When did we start calling ruins ugly and forget they’re just survivors without makeup? That swing, that barn, that hill—they’re not waiting for you. They’re not here to make you feel better. But maybe, just maybe, if you sit on that swing and close your eyes, something buried might stir. Do you still remember what made you laugh as a child? When was the last time you truly missed something you never had? Video by @giani_frentz [Apuseni Mountains, Țara Moților, Rustic Solitude, Abandoned Barns, Forgotten Childhoods, Carpathian Silence, Romanian Wilderness, Mountain Memories, Traditional Heritage, Ancient Caves, Nature’s Wrath, Weathered Wood, Lonely Swings, Village Remnants, Ice Caves, Spiritual Geography, Stark Beauty, Fermented Time, Rural Emotions, Ancestral Echoes] #romania #travel #apuseni #rawplaces

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