I am me.
Plain and simple.
I was born. I am living. I will die.
The great inbetween.
Everyhing can seem more beautiful from afar, but that beauty can only be pure when you can appreciate it up close.
Yes, I have hair on my legs.
Yes, I have hair on my toes.
Yes I have hair on my face.
I was born with hair.
You born with hair.
We were all born with hair.
It is something I have no control over, because I am me.
And I am my father's daughter, and he is a hairy beast who shaves every day.
And I am not my mother's daughter, because she is a hairless cat who can get away with shaving her legs once a month.
I am me.
Yes, I make messes.
Yes, I am opinionated.
Yes, I sometimes break my promises.
But I try to right my wrongs, and I trust me when I say there will be more wrongs.
But I am human.
Why do I have to be perfect?
Why do I have to reflect the image of a person who isn't even who they are made out to be?
Guess what, she has hair on her legs and her toes and her knuckles.
I am not sorry.
I will apologize for being wrong when I am in fact wrong, but I am me.
And I will not apologize for being hairy, and opinionated, and for loving things that only a seventy eight year old man would love, or for spending friday nights at home with my mother even though I am fifteen and apparently, I am supposed to hate her.
I am not a model in the modern meaning of the word.
But I am a model of who I am.
And I apologize if you do not like me, but that can only mean one thing, it's not me, it's you, because I am me, and me is someone who is straightforward, loving, and a bit annoying at times.
Once upon a time I tried to be what society wanted me to be, and I found myself facing the "Big Bad Wolf" and not "Happily Ever After."
So, I ended that story, and this is my new one, and it works, because life doesn't come with guidelines and a handbook, it comes with you.
So, until I draw my last breath, I am me.