I don't think selfishness comes naturally. I believe it develops over time through socialization and, in all honesty, it doesn't make you a good person just because you donate to a charity (looking at you stuck up rich people). Similarly, it doesn't make you a bad person just because you passed up a volunteer opportunity (more of a note for myself).
For some time I had been wicked stressed, taking on way more than I could handle but I did it -- well disguised on the outside but a veritable mess on the inside. So finally when I was able to convince myself that I was no superwoman in spite of what I liked to believe, and that it was nothing to be ashamed of, I felt a sense of relief. However, it was now time to make up for lost time and "unhad" fun.
Last month, I turned 58. As in 'years old.' Fifty. Eight. I don't care who you are, 58 is no longer "young." Body parts have shifted downwards. Skin has lost its memory yarn. Thighs ripple when we're standing still. Once-defined triceps now flap like sheets on a clothesline. Weight has moved into our hips and bellies with the tenacity of squatters on the back 40 of the Ponderosa.