I’ve reached an age where I feel comfortable with my looks. Unless I am trying on some hopelessly skimpy outfit, which always makes me cringe with self-doubt. I really do think that I “came into my looks” when I was 23. Yes, I can pinpoint it to the year! It was when I started to feel fashionably put together, a feeling I lacked throughout my tweens and teens. However, there are some things I’ve learned about myself in my twenties.
I will never ever be a dainty girl. I may be fit, but I will never qualify as dainty. Ain’t no way, ain’t no how. I’m much too strong in the wrists to be defined as dainty.
I do not look like most girls… most especially, not like most girls in Miami. I would say I look the way most girls looked in the late 40s and early 50s. I have a face from another time. Talk about melodramatic :p .
I will always be 5lbs away from what I think I should weigh. There’s a lot more to this than I care to think about.
I have too many imperfections to count and yet I have a wonderful person who does not seem to notice them.
I really do look better as a brunette. My dreams of being a red-head never quite work out as planned.
I have my father’s toes; they’re all curvy.
I want to age with grace, but I will never be the girl who looks perfectly coiffed.
So it goes.