imperfectly imperfect

I have a huge nose. Although it was once a real source of 'pain' and embarassment, it now does not cause me to 'shade' the tip in an attempt to conceal the actual length or to ensure that I hold my head downturned slightly in photos in the hopes that I don't go down in history with my grandchildren remarking how cavernous my nostrils were. In fact, I found it wonderfully hilarious recently and loved the fodder for a giggle when a stranger commented that my sister and I had noses that 'any man would be proud of' (you know, big nose = big ....male parts).

In my generous and most comfortable times, I firmly believe that everyone is beautiful....Sometimes, it isn't blatantly apparent. And sometimes, that beauty is completely unconventional. But it is beauty. I feel wonder that our bodies work. Amazement that we are alive. Joy in the way science and whatever is 'out there' works and how we interact. I can feel that what you 'look' like doesn't matter. That what you wear is inconsequential unless it is causing you physical discomfort (too cold, too hot, too itchy...).

But in there lies the problem. I am fine that someone else looks different. I can notice these difference acutely, but it is just an observation.....Until it is me. When it is me, I hate to stand out. And when I stand out, I am talking about the near nuclear glow of my doughy, blue hued, transluscent, thoroughly veined skin. I try to be okay with the freckles that dot every visible piece of exposed skin. I joke that I look tanned when 'all my freckles connect'. I try to think of my skin as 'porcelain' or 'peaches and cream'. Really, it's just DAMN WHITE.

So, in an attempt to lose some of the glow-in-the-dark properties that my skin possesses, I bought sunless tanner. I was torn. Really torn about showing my daughter that I am completely comfortable with what I look like. I want her to be proud of what her body unfolds to look like and not feel pressure to change it. I HATE, despise and loathe to think what chemicals lurk in this bottle of orange-ish brown skin dye. I am embarassed to think that my vanity is contributing to pollution by way of causing a demand for these admittedly strange products. Horror that I have bought into the media's homogenized version of the colour that skin 'should' be.

But here I sit, now typing away with my false sunkissed glow complete with streaks and handprints of brown. I feel sullied and deserving of the snickers that my mottled obviously fake tanned skin have afforded me. I realize that my decision to paint myself 'tanned' makes me a hypocrite....a very orange hypocrite. But really, if you judge me, it may just be because you possess that lovely olive sun-kissed glow that us grossly blue-white hued people long for. If you were ghostly, like me, you'd get it...Right? *giggle*