I'm not a vain person - I grew up in the heartland of America with all the same issues that every other awkward pre-pubescent girl had. I fought against the mainstream images being force fed to our culture. There were plenty of times that I thought I was ugly, fat, had bad hair, etc.

But now, well, now I seem to be growing into my own skin. This pale shell that has held and embraced me for the past few decades is finally starting to feel like home. I love standing on one leg, the other stretched out behind me like a swan, feeling all the muscles in my body working to keep me steady. I love the indent in my shoulder that inspires kisses and comments. There are times that I lay in bed at night, running my hands over my body and praising it for being so good to me over the years.

Of course I have flaws, who doesn't. I've brought a child into the world and I didn't escape unscathed. But I refuse to let anyone tell me that I'm not beautiful because of it. I notice the attention I get when I'm out, the way men orient themselves to my position. I see the effect I have on both genders. I enjoy that, especially with my animalistic nature. I've worked hard for it.

And damned if it doesn't look the most beautiful with teeth marks and scratches in it - that carnal lifeblood dripping slowly down my Irish skin. The bruises that form in an explosion of color soon after pressure is applied. I'm so lucky to be able to remember events days later by simply looking at my skin.

I'm pale. I'm Irish. I have freckles. I burn when I try to tan. My eyes are so blue that even I sometimes get lost in them. And I love myself.

This entry was posted by Mellie, on Wednesday, June 21, 2006.