Me, in a physical sense

I like my hair. I know that it does well for me. It's curly without being too crazy, and it's an interesting color: dancing along the border of red and blonde and brown, but the color of gold in the sun. I like that's it's easy, in that as long as I make the effort to keep it soft I don't have to much worry about it, and can just wash it and let it do what it wants to. This saves me a lot of time in my life, I know.

I like my eyes. I've developed an off-color spot in one of them over the past year or so that I'm not crazy about. But I like their color, and their size. I like their expressiveness (except when I'm trying to hide my feelings!) and that I still only need glasses occasionally, when I am very tired. I recently received a compliment on my smile lines, which was a bit unsettling as it was the first time someone other than my mother or a paid beauty professional has talked about them. I don't mind, though. I'm twenty-seven years old, and if I have to start wrinkling up, I'm glad that it's caused by my tendency to smile and laugh too much, rather than the opposite.

(I remember that after my year with the Americorps, I had a defined line straight down the middle of my forehead, and that at only twenty-one! I moved away, and my life got happier, and it went away. It seems to be staying away. I'm very thankful for the life changes that allowed that to happen.)

I like the bump on the end of my nose, because it is the only piece of my face that is my dad's.

I like my broad shoulders and my long neck. I like my big, strong hands which are capable of carrying many things at once or rocking an enormous ring. I like the lightning-bolt scar on my back, because I think it's cool, and because it's on my back rather than my forearm or face. I like my freckles, particularly the little ones that spring up after a day in the sun and then fade back into hiding.

I don't like my feet, which are long and wide and shapeless, and which require special care to not crack and hurt me. I do appreciate their propelling me about the world, however. I do not like my arms, which are too long for most shirts and too big, too. I do not like the mole on my right side that catches on shirts and hurts me.

And here I realize that I'm pretty darn lucky. Because I can't think of another part of me that I really dislike. My thighs spring to mind, because the tops are soft, but the bottoms are strong and hard... and my thighs let me run and bike. I wish the skin on my face was a bit less shiny, but I'm glad that it isn't too dry. Nobody likes their feet. Feet are gross. My arms are ok, and I guess reaching things is handy. It makes sense to dislike a mole that gets caught on stuff, because it's annoying.

The only part of my body that I'm actually truly self-conscious about is my eyebrows. I can deal with that.