So today was interesting.
I went out with Azure to wander around town. We had a great time. We went into this little boutique and were trying on dresses. The woman, this little Asian lady, saw that I had a small in this pretty lace dress. She looks at me, pats my stomach, and says I might want the next size up.
First off, I’m all for comfort, but no one who doesn’t know my first name should be touching me. Even then… Like on the arm is good. The stomach?
Oh HELL FUCKING NO
And then she goes and insults me and my tummy.
So we left and I felt like shit cause Azure, she’s going to be bashful when she reads this, is gorgeous. Like she models gorgeous, like men honked at us on the street gorgeous.
When we got back, we both put on dresses and took pictures.
I look stunning. I know I’m gorgeous. Sometimes I lose track of it. Beauty is not just the skin you’re in. It’s your attitude and optimism and happiness and life and pursuits. I’m beautiful cause I can read in a dress and heels and look like a sexy bookworm! I’m beautiful because I can love.
(I realize that my writing is not up to par, I’m tired and am jumping around a lot.)