On one particular day, after a long, hot afternoon celebrating my baby's 9th birthday in NJ, I retreated into Mami's room to watch The Iron Giant and could no longer fight gravity. Turns out, though, I missed the bed by a few inches and ended up on the floor in front of the mirrored closet doors. With Roscoe (my camera phone, fools! Keep up!).
Next thing I know, this happened:
because I was really feeling my sideways ponytail and that little piece of grown out bangs on the side. Then I was like, "ooh, check out my bod":
because I haven't really stopped to take inventory of how much better I look and feel at 15lbs lighter. Then I wanted to see how long my hair has gotten since my last haircut in January so I took it out of the ponytail:
and although the ends were split and cat-raggedy my 'do was looking cute in this pic. Then N scooted over and decided to join in on the impromptu, lazy-ass'd photo shoot:
We call that photo "Thug Life, Bitchezzzz". (Notice the side-tilt to her birthday tiara, the peace sign & the stankness of her face. I cannot with this child...)
Until finally, I came to my senses, realized I've never been the kind of girl who stares at herself in the mirror for millions of hours being vain and shit, and went back to being just me:
which is still pretty vain but not about looks; about intellect. And talent. Go and read for yourself.
*smooches...thinking, it's OK to feel "pretty" every once in a while*
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I should really practice it more; if Maria can do it, why not me?
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