I like my lips, particularly my lower lip, which is nice and full. It’s the main reason I like putting on lipstick (or lip gloss).
There’s not a lot to like about me. I’m just butt ugly.
oh, stop it, woman…you’re just trying to drive nails in my coffin…
.
I like my eyes. They’re big, brown, and there’s a gold ring around the edge (my dad used to tell me I had “princess eyes,” which is why he wanted to name me Sarah instead of Melinda - thank God!). I also have thick, long lashes. I get complimented on my eyes a lot. (You can’t really tell in my PP pic, though, because it was dark and the flash from the camera made me squint.)
I have crowns on my front teeth, so they aren’t beautiful or sparkly or white, but I’ve learned to love my smile. I used to get teased an awful lot - I had buck teeth as a child, and they were stained slightly brown from antibiotics I took for my hearing problems. Then my front teeth got knocked out, and I had crowns, then braces, then porcelain veneers which chipped, so back to the crowns again. For the longest time I didn’t smile at all, but once I started I couldn’t stop. Now I even have little dipples, too. And I know that if I give the full-on Sarah Smile, I’m damn near irresistable.
I’ve come to a point, too, where I’m comfortable with my body. I’m not perfect (down to a size 12 again!) and I have stretch marks and chunky thighs, but I feel sexy if I wear nice, fitted clothes.
I also have beautiful hands and feet, but they are rather large. Still, they look nice and feminine. Ugly hands and misshapen toes run in my family, though, so I’m grateful for what I got.
This thread obviously caught me in a good mood.
I really think it’s just a matter of aging into your appearance. I read this great line from a Stephen Dunn poem:
Kind of sums up my point of view.
Having spent yesterday shopping for a swimsuit and thus being forced into facing all the many things I hate about my body, this is a very good time for me to remember what I like.
I like my height. I am, depending on who’s measuring me, how I’m being measured, and what shoes I am wearing, either 5’6 or 5’7, and occasionally 5’7.5. It puts me at or near eye-to-eye level on almost everyone I know, and I’m the same height as Gunslinger. Also, it annoys my father because I stand straight and he slouches, making my 5’7 seem almost equal to his 5’11.
I like my posture. Does that count? Six years of choral training and the most important things I learned were how to breathe and how to stand.
I like my hair. It grows fairly quickly and it’s very, very thick. Unfortunately it’s green right now and I have no idea what my natural color is, exactly. But hey, I have cute pigtails, even if my current hair length isn’t good for much else. I like the pigtails.
I like my eye color, but my natural squint kinda hides it from the casual observer. Nobody ever looks at my face closely enough to see what color my eyes are, so that’s sort of the thing that only I like about me.