A hug for my weird I want stubbornly. I don't often have strong desires, so when I do, I fight for them--tooth and nail (and stabby cheat knife too). Those glasses, age 9 to 13, were unforgivably ugly. I knew that when I first laid my stigmatized eyes upon them. But some bizarre Harry Potter crushing oracle inside me said buy them, buy them and wear them years before anyone can make cute wizardy analogies to excuse your magnified face. I threw a tantrum and indignantly pushed them up my nose for the next half a decade of voluntary deformity. And I still stand by those thick poo-colored frames that very firmly established my painfully awkward jejuneness. I will always back you up, random gut instinct of no logical bearing whatsoever. I will never ever apologize for you. I hope you stay with me and flare up if and when I'm an old bitty. --he calls me طقة (frazzled)--I have to remind him he loves that, I have to remind myself I love that. |