Well, if this doesn’t make me look as conceited as humanly possible, I haven’t described why I love myself well enough.
I still have image issues, I still stare at my spare tire and wish 5 pounds of it would magically vanish, and I still (on lonely days) wonder why I’m not good enough to have a boyfriend. All of that being said, I know it’s total bullshit.
If I could provide you with imagery like a poet, I would. But, instead, I’ll allude to an up-and-coming leading lady. I’m about as close to BEING Ms. Superbad that you can be, sans ginger crotch.
Why? If I were a cocktail, I would be of equal parts mischievous and girl-next-door. And trust me when I say that it’s difficult to pull that off. It’s a rare, and sometimes difficult to see (and easy to overlook), combination of wit, charm, and beauty-ish-ness.
My face? Not typical ‘movie star’ quality but pretty…unique…it adds to the mystery of being me. You have to look for the ‘pretty’. You might question it…but once you find something to like, it’ll always be there. My lips…my eyes…something. Pick your poison.
My voice is deeper (more guttural) than most girls but it commands attention (works really well at the day J.O.B.) and my strength and intelligence seep out of my pours even when I’m trying to play the ‘blond’ card.
I think this combination is the most obvious reasons why I make my guy-friends swoon (whether they really like me or just want a little action). I’m not ‘most’ girls. I cuss like a sailor and then flash a beauty queen smile. I have dimples that will rock your world and wit that will bring anyone to their knees.
It’s all of my quirks, all of my vulnerabilities and antics, that make me love my ‘whole’ self.