I am a perfectionist with a capital P. Let down if I get less or equivalent to a B, because I want to be the best that I can be, and yet, I can never seem to keep my room clean for more than a week...


I am a body completely broken by heartbreak. My eyes never ending rivers, and my nose like the Niagara Falls upon my pillow after a night of crying myself to sleep. I am, have to wake up to pillow wet from tears and mouth drool... Mornings for me are never pretty.


I am hairy bear arms. My mother trying to convince me when I was younger that it was the Italian in me. My Mediterranean skin and thick hair was something to be proud of, a beautiful gift from my Italian ancestors... Then why don't I feel beautiful? Then why did the boys on the playground make fun of me and call me a boy?


And the hair doesn't stop there.


I am unruly eyebrows, mustache needing waxed every other week. I am legs, arms needing shaven constantly. I am side burns that I wish were not as long and dark as they are. I am even that one pesky hair that pops up, unwelcomed, on my chin.


I am acne. I am baby bunions on my feet because I dedicated ten years of life and body to dance.


I am big nose, uneven eyelids, and pointy "elf' ears.


I am, cannot do ten pushups without collapsing and would die running a marathon. I am, cannot even calculate how many miles it would be if I ran a 5k marathon!


I am sometimes not showing enough appreciation where appreciation is due.


I am also wide "toe" thumbs... Yes, like the ones Megan Fox has, but I don't even have her beautiful face as a redeeming quality.


I am a messy romantic. I am tripped up on words or no idea where to begin when talking to a cute boy, or girl, person at work, person on metro. I am a communications major who can't even mutter a confident hello at a party.


I am a wine lover and cheese lover and bread, chocolate cake, french fry lover. I am no thigh gap! I am rock hard "flabs." I am heavier than I want to be, but I am me.


And these flaws are what make up who I am.


And I don't mean to correct the great Beyoncé herself (long live the queen!), but I think her lyrics are a bit misleading:


"I woke up like this... Flawless!"


I know what she meant. Even though we have imperfections we can still feel flawless.


But why can't we be flawed and feel beautiful?


Why do I have to wake up and pretend I'm flawless when I know I'm not?


Yes, I now what she means. We can feel flawless by accepting our flaws and seeing the beauty in them.


But why not say that? Why say "flawless"?




I want to wear my flaws with confidence and say, "Yes, I have a toe thumb!" Even if I cringe the first hundred times I say it!


I don't want to live a lie and just pretend my flaws aren't there, because I'm not fooling anyone.


I want to say, "I woke up like this... Flawed!" Not flawless, but flawFUL.


Full of flaws, combining flawed with beautiFUL, adding some FLavor to awFUL, flawful.


I want to wake up feeling flawful, and I encourage you beautifully flawed people to do the same.



This poem is about: 
Our world


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