While you’re busy judging me by the size of my behind, I thought I’d make your job easier. You see, I’m real honest about who I am.
I’m short and fat. I have gray hair popping through if you could see beneath the artificial color.
My face shows the wrinkles of 43 years. My eyes a small—squinty they’ve been called. My feet are closer to those of Fred Flintstone than a super model’s.
I have cellulite and dimples, and love handles make my hips wide.
Sometimes I laugh too loud, and my voice is big if I’m excited.
I’ll never be a showpiece, not that I care. I know none of what I’ve said matters if you can be real, too.
If you look into my squinty eyes, deep down beyond the surface, you will see the outside is like the façade of an old curiosity shop housing what you’ve really come for.
Looking deep within, the shelves are lined with me. They house who I really am. There are books for each wrinkle, like the time I lost my job, or the when my son fell from the tree.
Laugh lines around my mouth have their stories, too. The births of my children, and the day I first held my grandchild are accounted for somewhere up front so all can see.
There are the symbols representing all which I hold sacred.
Pictures of my family—they sit right there at eye level.
My pen and paper are displayed on an antique desk.
Somewhere in there you’ll see a man holding me as a child in a print shop, the smell of printing ink defines my childhood.
You’ll see the time I decided it was better to live in a small home than sacrifice my time raising my children, and all over the floor you’ll find paw prints of the furbabies who have given us joy.
There aren’t curtains or closets. Everything is open for you to see, for there is nothing to hide.
You’ll see the good and the bad.
My divorce, my stupid choices, my successes, and the things of which I’m proud.
Here and there you’ll see my shortcomings—my hang-ups and pet peeves, but if you can look past those, you’ll see my sacrifices—the times I gave so much to so many.
If you look close enough, you will see a kind, intelligent, strong, loyal, independent soul who is mature enough to know that what I take with me into the beyond is not beauty, but my connections with others.
So while you’re busy counting numbers on my scales, you haven’t begun to see what lies beneath—the person you will overlook for someone who gives your arm some bling.
That’s okay, though, because whether you like me or not, I still love me.