Accept me for who I am not for who you want me to be.
I don`t perfect my hair because you might see me and say 'What was she thinking? '
I love the way it feels to blown in the wind, like angels spinning around me.
So yes I curl it high, let my locks fly, and go on doing my thing.
I Dont wear make-up to cover up who I am inside. My face, my look, is based on my mood of the day, an accent to beyond what sees with the eye.
I walk with my head held high not because I feel Im on a high horse, But because I am a confident Black woman proud of what God has made of me.
I am who I am because of my imperfections, My wide nose, chinky eyes, Short in height, bright skinned, a lil` thick at the theighs.
My high cheekbones, or unmarked face, my wardrobe, or hairdo, or signature walk doesnt define who I am.
My flaws make me who you see. The imperfects is what makes you remember me, differs from others but put together accordingly.
I take the good with the bad, the nerdness the swag and smile because I`m not perfect nor concident, My flaws makes me who I am.
Sunday, August 15, 2010