Long ago I accepted that I was no real beauty not in
the conventional way. My nose is way too big but I have a wide smile, which I
always thought balanced it out reasonably well. If my arm was twisted and I was
forced to choose one feature I liked best then I would say my eyes. They are
large, wide-set… - and the colour of melted dark chocolate framed with
enviously long black lashes, my best friend gushed after one too many
chardonnays. OK this is a drunken female frame of reference but it is a
reference. Of course that is what best friend’s are for but Marissa isn’t here
so it's up to me to remind myself that I have a good body to boot not Victoria
Secrets but the curves I do possess are in the right places. Sure it would be
nice to have a bit more up top bigger than a B-cup and longer legs…
I yank at my ponytail. What is wrong with me? I’m
standing here like a spare lemon that didn’t quite make it into lemonade. What
do I care-that some dumb actor isn’t bowled over by my erm…unique beauty, his
loss and all that! One day I might meet a man who is… tolerable, and if that
doesn’t happen then I’ll settle being the eccentric stunt spinster with a cat
or two and a chip on my shoulder, which I can easily kick off if I choose.
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