I hear it all the time. Yes, I do realize that I am indeed beautiful. The frizz of my hair gently diffuses the harsh glare of the flourescent lights as I cast my obese shadow over ten small and innocent children. My makeup-less eyes lounge luxuriously atop soft bags, taunting everyone with the mysteries of how late I was up the night before. They give testimony to some traumatic experience, perhaps one which occurred while attempting to teach the junior highers. Is that a tick, or am I actually winking? No one can tell. Foundation merely conceals the glow of natural oil and denies each zit its God-given right to rise and shine....so I don't wear any. I wear the same clothes I wore two days ago because I think that if it ain't broke, don't fix it. The bouquet is unlike anything anyone has ever smelled before....like fine wine, sometimes it's good to age your outfits a bit.
But somehow I sense that maybe these kids have learned the value of shameless brown-nosing along the road, and I have become the recipient.
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1 comment:
you are too much!!!
for me, when i feel like this, i remind myself who i am through song of solomon... gib it a try.
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