Beautiful

I want to feel comfortable in my skin. I want to feel comfortable in my brain. I see beautiful people and I know I am not one of them. It’s not a weight thing. It’s an absolute. I am a lot of things but beautiful isn’t one of them. I’m scary smart. I’m a fantastic skater. At one point in time, I was super creative. I’m raising good sons. I want to adopt every animal in need and a good portion of those not in need. I adore my gran and I want my mom to find peace. I am so much more. Beautiful, no matter what my husband says, just isn’t it. My eye color changes more than my dog wheezes. I have a lot of facial scars. I can’t decide whether to stay blonde or jump ship to another color. I’m a lot of things. Looking for sympathy or be blanketed with praise isn’t it. Neither is beautiful. I’m patiently impatient. I love fiercely. I pick great colors for my toenails. They’re beautiful but I’m not. Before you protest, I don’t mean ugly. I carved U G L Y in my leg and the scar faded faster than I cycle. It was lie, that’s why. Ugly takes very little effort and a ton intent. I’m not ugly. I want to be comfortable in my body. I want to be comfortable in my brain. I see beautiful people and intend on figuring out how to be.

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