Coming to terms with my face…

I’ve come to terms with a lot of things over the years but there’s just some things that are harder than others.

I’ve never had a joyous relationship with my face. It’s always been distinctly average with eyebrows like slugs doing yoga. I have very sensitive skin and learned back in the 70s that make up wasn’t a good option for me. My glasses bring me out in a rash if I sweat, I have (and always have had) too many facial hairs and my best friend, if I’m honest, is my pair of tweezers.

FaceI have cholesterol deposits around my eyes and I get fed up with people who think it’s fine to tell me what they are and they always top off their rudeness by telling me I’m going to have a heart attack. Yes I have slightly higher cholesterol levels than is ideal but that kind of runs in the family and I am at no more risk of having a heart attack than most people my age. They happen because I exercise a lot and when I increase my level of exercise they become more noticeable. I hate them and I’ve got into the habit of being embarrassed by them because people are rude.

I got my first grey hair when I was 15 and made friends with the dye bottle that day. My hair is wild and I rarely wear it loose as it’s a shipping hazard but I quite like it. I never brush or comb it and had a big falling out with the dye bottle so I’m a bit on the grey side.

I think what has really sunk in the past few days is that it’s more than all right to be average. I’m always telling other people that and it’s about time that I acknowledge that. Yes, I hate having my photo taken but I’m always reassuring other people that they have an inner gorgeousness. I think that has to count for me too.

Anyway, here I am, average in face and (becoming) proud of it.