My teeth are crowded and a little bit crooked. My nickname is "Tooth" because one of my top front teeth sticks out a little bit overlapping the other one. Sometimes I'm self-conscious of it but it doesn't bother me horribly. It only becomes a nuisance when I'm told pretty often that I have lipstick on it and if I take a picture on my bad tooth side. I always asked for braces when I was a kid but my mom told me I didn't need them because my teeth were pretty they way they were.
I don't have eyebrows. They're so thin and blonde that I've mastered the art of drawing them on to make them look fuller and real. Usually I get them pretty even but I always have to double and triple check just in case. I've been asked probably over 500 times in my life if I ever got tweezer happy and no, I did not. They just never grew. Neither did my chest.
When I was a little girl, I couldn't wait to grow up and have boobs. I was kind of boob-obsessed and it was something I really looked forward to. I checked daily just hoping and waiting. Well, I was disappointed that they never really came. I do have booty, and I joke constantly that if some of that could have gotten spread out to my top half I'd be set but that's not how it all turned out. Because of the booty, I've always been asked if I want fries with my shake. All that ever did was make me hungry. I guess I walk kind of weird but it's not on purpose. If I try not to shake it, I feel like I'm walking like a moron so I've learned to just go with it.
It's whatever. Fries and a shake.
I'm kind of shaped like a pear. A scrawny, short little pear. I say scrawny because I'm kind of skinny. Well, I'm very skinny. No, I'm not anorexic or bulimic but those questions are frequent. I like to ride my bike and do some squats but that's about the extent of my exercise taste and I absolutely hate to throw up. If I had a dollar for every time I was told to eat a cheeseburger, I'd have enough to buy my own burger joint. Apparently it was never okay for anyone to be chubby and it was never okay to be skinny either. I'd love to meet the one person responsible for deciding what "normal" was. I was a scrawny, gangle of a kid with little feet that looked too big for my body at the time and a flat chest and who got picked on by boys and girls until I finally blossomed into whatever flower I was going to blossom into...between my sophomore and junior year of high school.
I got a little bit taller, my feet stayed the same size so they were then considered small, and I was finally kind of feeling like I fit in as far as appearance was concerned, as shallow as that ever was or will be. The way I saw it was that at least I was spared being teased and bullied two years out of 12, so that has to count for something right? I'm a pretty shy and sensitive person. I'm quiet until I get a feel for people and get comfy in a situation, and I get embarrassed easily. I don't like seeing people hurt, friend or foe, and for the most part I dislike confrontation. Those haven't always been a strong point either. To this day, the line I get from close friends is the exact same, nearly word for word. "Don't take this the wrong way but when I first met you, I thought you were going to be such a bitch." Not long after that usually follows things like, "You're too nice. You let people walk all over you. You're kind of a pushover. You wear your heart on your sleeve."
All of the above is true. RBF. Resting Bitch Face.
It's funny to me that it's a coined term now like it's endearing. I mean, I guess. Okay. I have been too nice to some of the wrong people. They've walked all over me. I have been a pushover and I do, to this day, wear my heart on my sleeve. My grandfather told me that all through adolescence, my teenage years, and into adulthood. I'm a little older and have children of my own whose good self-esteem I'm initially responsible for. I've taken my own insecurities and experiences into consideration and began viewing them as positive stepping stones and perfect fitting pieces of my Life Puzzle. If I saw that my kids needed braces, they got them. When they got bullied for being too thin, I told them flip it and say they would pass along a thank you message to their dad and me for designing their genetics with a disclaimer that by the way, cheeseburgers aren't their thing. They like chicken. I've taught them to be kind to others but to stand up for themselves in order to bypass the pushover trait, and I've worked on that as well. I'm not perfect and I don't strive to be because there is no such thing. I will always have insecurities but I am beautiful for all of my flaws.
On a superficial level, I will probably never have big boobs. That's okay. At this point, I still don't want to pay for them and the surgery or recovery does not sound like a party. I will probably always have my crazy tooth because as nice as getting them fixed sounds, I still don't want to pay for that either. I will probably always be scrawny. That's okay because it's all I've ever known. As long as my checkup stats at the doctor once a year turn out okay, I'm good to go.
On the humanistic level, I will probably always wear my heart on my sleeve. That's okay too because at least others will know that I have one. What I won't always be is a pushover and I will not get walked on. I speak my mind more often now and it's not always what everyone around me is used to hearing or wants to hear. That's okay as well. They can take me or leave me.
Those who truly love me will keep me, just as I have kept them. A few weeks ago I was visiting the Northern Pacific Coast. I was walking along the ocean at low tide and I found a tiny little shell, almost fully intact. It had little nicks and flaws, and it had a hole near the bottom where something once was and disappeared. It had washed up onto the shore in forceful waves with other shells and tiny ocean life, sand, and rocks. For all of its nicks and flaws and all it had been through to get to shore; it was beautiful. Like every single one of us.