my hands are like my voice- entirely too masculine. my fingers are thick and my palms are calloused. my nails are nice, though. it's easy to have nice nails. i do pick at the skin around my nails in boredom or in anxiousness, however. my feet look unnatural and almost cartoonish. they just spread out, like duck feet. they are bricks at the ends of my ankles. each toe looks like it came off of a different foot. the skin on my heels are as hard and thick as the bark of a tree. veins bulge out of the tops of my feet, all blue and prominent. wearing delicate shoes has never been a walk in the park, no pun intended.
none of this is a pity party or wallowing in a pool of self loathing. this is simply how it is and how i am- mere observations of myself. i am still able to walk into a room and feel like i am not hideous. i can still wear a bikini and not feel terrible about the skin i've been given as my own. i can go shopping for new clothes and not come out of the dressing room crying. i am aware that this does not count as a stellar amount of confidence per se- tolerance, rather. it's hard to feel beautiful when you're the only one looking at yourself and there is no one around to tell you otherwise.
things that make me happy as of today are drives at night down an isolated and pitch black road, the new york city skyline, long island, new clothes, the thought of putting summer on pause, pictures of hawaii and imagining actually going there, warm toned colors.
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