I Am Ok
I am OK. I am still as beautiful as I saw myself in the mirror some days ago. Nothing has changed. Not the wrinkles by the sides of my smiling eyes, or the slightest hint of a dimple on my cheek or the beauty mark on my right temple. My smile can still light up the room, if not I can be assured it will light up my little corner; that's what really matters. I am OK.
Another beauty mark leads to my neck and to one of my favorite features, my elegant collarbone. Too often overlooked by the men whose eyes seek curves and the women's drowning in envy; overlooked except to the one it belongs to.
My frame, petite, and everything's where they need to be, features of womanhood constantly in bloom. I am OK. Yes, my waist and tummy are sections I must learn to love a little more than the others, love handles above hips.
These "flaws" I see in myself are only momentary distractions of the masterpiece of Me, my perfect imperfections. My thighs are roadway to another favorite, my legs. I wouldn't describe them as graceful or slim or long as they do in Glamour and Cosmo magazines: those umpteenth pages of scribbles portray perceptions of an unattained beauty. No, my legs show signs of long-term discipline and strength, without overshadowing my femininity. I am OK.