In the beginning I wanted to be perfect for you.
I would rise early, as you were sleeping,
put on make-up, brush my hair and teeth,
horrified you would have second thoughts
about this brown-eyed Southern girl if you saw the
real me. Then I would climb back into bed, looking
like a soap opera star who never has pillow creases
in her face or hair mussed from too much tossing and
turning. Crazy, I know.
Because even in the beginning, I thought you were
perfect. Even with your morning breath, and the
stubble on your chin that scratched me in my most
intimate places. Your mussed up hair gave you a
boyish look that melted my heart and made me want
the man that I had married even more.
For some reason, I couldn't see pass my own clouded vision of
myself. I couldn't seem to realize that you would also
love the girl with the tousled hair, removing sleep from
her eyes, still warm from a night of slumber.
Years have passed and I now know that you do love me
as I am.. bare before you, with my masks removed.
You love my wrinkles, the specks of gray in my hair, and the
few extra pounds that were not there before. And in this,
I have come to see myself clearly, and love myself well.
Thank you, my love for helping me open my eyes and my heart.