Supermodels Need Not Apply

As women we are so concerned with perfection. We want to be skinny, pretty, smart, funny, tall, short, have straight hair or curly hair. Need I go on? The list is endless. There are so many imperfections each of us possess and guess what? That’s what makes us unique and likable. Who wants to be friends with someone who is too perfect? Not I. Mostly because if they are that perfect, then I get suspicious that they are an android from the future, but that’s not the point here. (Not the point, but a valid point. Am I right?)

I want to hang out with that person who also just ate a piece of chocolate off of their pants when they thought no one was looking and maybe dyed their hair and it did not go as planned because that kind of thing happens to me ALL of the time. Literally two days ago I dropped a piece of my Special K bar onto my pants and noticed it ten minutes later. I figured that it didn’t touch the floor so, it’s probably okay to eat and looked around like a criminal. Then, obviously, I ate it. Also, I have gone out in public with green hair. Not because I wanted green hair (I have no problems with intentionally green hair), but because I went swimming and it turned my highlights green. Imagine being a teenage girl and walking in from the pool to find out that your hair is green. GREEN. The next day was not the best day of my life, but mostly because I was so worried about it.

I would like to take this opportunity to embrace some of my imperfections, because they make me a non-brain eating, human. Do you hear that long-legged Giselle? I’m on to your ruse.

 

• The first one that I guess I should address would be the scars on my face. Some people notice them right away and ask about them, but some don’t notice them at all. They remind me how terrible wool is as a fabric. I will probably never put a baby on it. Oh, and that I had bacterial Meningitis as a 10 week old and am still kicking today. I think the scars are pretty cool. I would much rather have them than plain old skin on my face like everybody else. So, I’m never going to try to go Texas Chainsaw on you and make a skin mask or pull a Phantom of the Opera.
• I consistently hit the snooze button in the morning until I have no other choice but to get up unless I want to look like a borderline homeless person. I typically choose to work that fine line. One woman actually asked me last week if I was depressed based on my general appearance. I said, um thank you and no. I just look like this.
• I have that dreaded c-word. Ladies, you know what I am referring to. Cellulite. If you do not have it, then please see above regarding androids. I don’t trust you. We are not friends.
• My hair only curls from the top of my ears down, so when fully curly it looks like I have an outgrown perm. I try to make it look like I’m just sort of cool and bohemian. Really, it’s just avoidance of taming the mane. Also I’m 99% sure I never look “cool”. Maybe, just better than that day I wore a hat to work because I woke up 30 minutes before I needed to be there. I have low work appearance standards.
• I have what some may call a “soft” body due to the overall lack of muscle definition. However, many soft things are awesome. Pillows, beds, couches, blankets. Who doesn’t like soft things? Soft bodies unite! Also, looking back at that list of soft things I realize that I am obviously tired and thinking about sleeping.
• My eyebrows are cousins. Very distant cousins. The kind of cousins you would have to attest that you are not on a marriage application in Kentucky. (I’ve seen the application. There is a question.) No matter what I do, they are both obviously on my face, but other than that, have very little in common.
• I have these things called sideburns. Elvis Presley worthy sideburns. I blame Ambrose Burnside, my great-great uncle. He had EPIC sideburns and subsequently, his Burnsides turned into sideburns. So, I’m working on embracing them as my family legacy. I wish it was something cooler though, like 20/20 vision, straight teeth (maybe I could get those three years in braces back) or a Faberge egg. One day I do plan to visit his gravesite to leave him an electronic razor and shaving cream for a little manscaping. I think he would like it.

General Ambrose Burnside. Do you see the family resemblance?