Dark circles, large pores, pudgy nose, slanted eyes, acne scars, eczema, discoloration, freckles, moles, smile lines (now, who the hell came up with that “ish” … It’s all because “I’m Happy” … and no, I’m not clapping my hands Pharell) … etcetera, etcetera … the fabric of my beautiful existence.
Beauty goes beyond the surface, but it’s partnered with the flesh. It tends to rattle the bones and send electrifying currents through the body.
I often compare myself to other women like most of us (women) do … you can admit it too … this is a JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE Boo Boo. I’m such a bootleg rapper. Haha! Time to get serious … (clears throat) … Randomness often runs rampant through my cranium … I wish I had her waist length hair (free flowing with a slight kink and defined curls at the very end), I wish I had her smooth and glowing (ageless) skin, I wish I had her sun kissed complexion (the sun was even like “Got Damn”), I wish I had her unaltered frame (the perfect hour glass … the one that time seemed to have forgotten), I wish I had her washboard abs (more ripples than the ocean at high tide), I wish I had her toned and “uncellulited” (yes, I said it … say it with me … “un-cell-u-lited”) legs and thighs, I wish I had her round and “firmalicious” ass (the one that only accepts American Express … the black card with a ZERO spending limit), I wish I had … I wish I had, but I don’t.
My flaws, my imperfections, my insecurities … all are the pieces to my unbreakable beauty … the unbreakable and imperfectly perfect puzzle of self-acceptance.
There’s no better love than the love you give yourself. It’s unconditional, it’s uniquely and genetically formed, it’s one-of-a-kind, it’s deeper than the eye can truly see. Beauty is beyond the flesh … it’s stored in the core of the soul. Every woman and man was created from the finer elements of the earth. As children we were led to believe that little boys were made of “snips and snails, and puppy dog tails” and little girls were made of “sugar and spice and all things nice.” As an adult, I’ve grown to accept that we all are a bitter-sweet beautiful mess.
When I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my flaws are magnified. I begin to count the dark brown freckles on my face, I poke (and often pop) the protruding pimples on my forehead, I yank that one long black strand of hair under my chinny chin chin (that annoying piece of shit is like weeds in the middle of a rose garden), I squeeze my nostrils together just to get a quick glimpse of my nose in a standard European form. I then would do a half turn and notice that “phat” ass (squat jumps and lunges are truly a woman’s best friend right after diamonds and designer dogs). The struggles of being a woman in love … more like, in a “love/like/dislike/I can’t stand you” relationship with herself.
There’s no one in this world like you. We all have a purpose to live, to love, and to appreciate the beauty in life. If no one ever tells you this, let me be the first … “You are beautiful!” Love yourself first before giving it all to someone else.
“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it” Confucius