There's an insecure part of me that feels as though I should apologize for not fitting into today’s mainstream blogger box — oh yeah, there is one. I wasn't blessed with long blonde balayage beach waved hair; skin the color of freshly churned vanilla ice cream that's been lightly scorched by the sun. Or like the sista's whom live everyday, unapologetically in their 'black girl magic'; with skin tones so richly decadent like that of a non-GMO, USDA organic 63% cacao chocolate bar (yum!).
Securities aside, I haven't forgotten that I am too magic in many ways. The idea of being who I am and loving all of who I am is much more rewarding than living in doubt and living up to the idea that I need to fit into this mold.
My chameleon like skin changes with the seasons, changing from pale olive in the winter, but glows like J.Lo when the sun hits in the summertime. That my Southeast Asian lineage only allows for me to stand as tall as a stunted saguaro cactus, where twist and turns from my curves provide my lover the most enjoyable ride. I am unequivocally me, and so very proud to be.
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