I used to think I was lucky I didn’t have a permanent brown smudge on my ass shaped like an amoeba. Then one day I was having an introspective moment and realized no one of any real importance would ever see THAT PART and I instead started worrying about all the visible imperfections. I think that’s how self esteem deflates. You become self conscious of things you can’t cover up. Unless you wander around the planet during all seasons wearing a baggy, unflattering sweat suit.
I pick self conscious. Being hot’s a bitch.
Think of this as your visible brown smudge, albeit one with a positive connotation, welcomed and admired by all – like Cindy Crawford’s facial mole (call it what you want, a mole’s a mole)
Did you visit me? Can I stalk your blog back? I’m curious by nature. And so are you. If you disagree and tisk-tisk blog-stalking, then you’re in denial and still believe we can see through your jeans when you bend over.
So let me know you were here – tell me what you hated or liked or reminded you of that one time in second grade…
Like an answering machine, just without the beep.