What is flawless?
No bumps, no blemishes, no imperfections?
That is flawless.
I am not flawless.
Scars from years of sports and clumsy moments.
Reminders of glory days and cheek-reddening moments from years past.
Hair that is neither the platinum of models or the chestnut of celebrities.
A combination of my mom and dad and their parents before them.
Arms that extend beyond long sleeves and ankles that cannot be contained in pants.
Plenty of room for that second dessert.
Teeth that flaunt the effects of morning coffee.
Stories shared over early morning cafe gatherings and late night panicked projects.
Too loud, too quiet, too crazy, too boring.
Too tall, too short, too skinny, too fat.
Too young, too old, too mean, too nice.
What is normal? What is perfect?
I am not normal.
But I am perfect.
Not for you.
But for me.