Wanna Hug It Out?

Or perhaps an embrace, if you will.

And today we're not talkin' about embracing your "hubs" or yo mamma or that weird lady at church who wants to "give ya some shugaa."

Instead we're gonna chit-chat about our "flaws." Those bitchy little things that nobody wants to talk about, but eventually you've gotta just look 'em in the face and say,

"SCREW OFF. My hair may be frizzy and my knees bony, but my mom thinks I'm cool!"

And now that I mentioned it, let's talk about the first flaw that I've finally come to embrace in my life.

I was born with cool, fine, straight hair, but circa 2003, hormones said hey girl heyyy and kinked my shit UP, with a lotta bitta frizz for good measure.

Wasn't hair in my armpits and no-no zone enough? Oh noooo, you had to go messin' with my luscious mane, too. 

Engagement pics ~ my hair started completely straight.
Then face curls made their awkward appearance...

And so I did what any 14-year-old in the new millenium would do ~ I bought an ionic hairdryer, a Chi straightener, and started waking up an hour earlier so I could fry the shit out of my hair on the daily. The oh-so-worth-it {sarcasm} work took my hair from this... 

100% au naturale

To this...

Sleek and long, sure.
Worth the arm pain and the sweat and tears and hair all over the shower walls because it was D-E-D dead?
I mean, not quite.

So in the last few years, I decided it just wasn't worth it and I started being a wavy-haired crunchy granola girl {sans dreadlocks}. And the first time Glenn saw me with my hair curly?

HE. FLIPPED. In a good way and thought my naturally wavy mane was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.
WABAM. More air-drying it is!

My legs resemble poultry and it's emburrrrassing.
Or at least it was. Y'all, I've got chicken legs.

As noted here, I tip the scales at a whopping 98-100 lbs., and that's after Thanksgiving dinner. So, naturally, my body fat is about as low as the chance that J.Simps and Hottie Lachey are gonna get back together {I'm still crying about it... Nick, she knows it's tuna now; will you please take her back?}

I was always self conscious about my scrawny legs, and got snarky comments about it all the time when I was a cheerleader in middle and high school, wearing a shorty skirt.

"You're liable to snap in half like a twig!"
"They're so long and skeeeeeeny!"
I'm not mentioning your stumps-for-legs; so wtf?

But then one day I realized ~ my thighs have never freaking touched. Meaning they don't chafe. Meaning life is pretty awesome and my legs are kinda cool when they're bony and you can see all the veins. Yum.

So, thanks, Mom and Dad, for the great genes and the Chafeless Lifestyle. I'm really enjoying living it!

And back to how Glenn is the best guy in the world ~ he's not a boob or ass man... He's a leg guy. Bow chicka wow-wow.

And speaking of boobies...
Because when aren't we speaking of boobies?

I'm about as blessed in the chest as Chaz Bono. Maybe less.
Definitely less.

Weeeetle theengs.

Actually, this may be something I never fully embrace, but at least I know I can always get hilarious looks when I take a 34DD back to the fitting room and ask the clerk if it comes in a bigger size, just in case.

Also, my back and shoulders feel just fine, thanks.  :)

I have moles, but I'm not MOLEY MOLEY MOLEY MOLEY.
I actually hate the word mole, because it sounds hairy and that's gross.

I was born with a little freckle front and center on my nose that has grown as I've grown and is now two tiny moles side by side.

I used to despise it.
Makeup artists have actually tried to wipe it off.
Dermatologists have suggested I remove it, "but insurance won't cover it because it's strictly cosmetic." Then why are you being a bitch about it?
Sometimes my glasses irritate it if I've been wearing them for too long.

But then my senior year of high school, I had senior portraits taken. Now, those airbrushed things never look just like you, I know that.
I mean, I wasn't ashamed to ask them to erase my stray eyebrow hairs and touch up that monster zit that made a surprise visit.

But something about the picture we received just wasn't Alexa. And it took quite a few looks for Mom and I to realize ~ they'd edited out my nose freckles MOLES. That picture now hangs in the upstairs hallway of my parents' house, and likely forever will, and every time I look at it I'll touch my little brownie and remind it that I love it and want it to stick around.

When we got that portrait back, I decided I was gonna own this imperfection, along with all of those other things that seem so big to us too often, but really, we're the only ones who notice them and give two shits.
{I also happen to have a blue ~ yes, blue ~ freckle on my ear and every doctor who's ever seen it asks if I've had it checked and/or want it removed. No thanks, in my head I'm like an anomaly and I'd like to keep it that way.}

So ladies, what flaws have you embraced instead of erased?
Even if one of your boobies is a C and the other is a AA, I'll still love ya!
I just won't send you a Victoria's Secret gift card for your birthday, because I'm not that cruel.