Guess who’s not a model? Me. Weird tits, small ass, my feet are off as hell, my hair is almost always messy, I’ve the skin of an (alligator) goddess. Ha. But put me amongst the world’s most beautiful women and watch me lead all common and exclusive attraction to Me. Also, I’ll face no insecurity. My laughter is more beautiful than my face and my soul is more beautiful than my laughter. You can imagine an overthinker like me with no ground? Never. I was made to exhibit beautiful things; beautiful things including myself. I am not a by-product of this new idea of beauty. I am not “one of them”. Please take me to the jungle then, where I belong. Where I am rough and flawed and imperfectly shaped. Let me be amongst earth where beauty is not criticized for being itself. Where man cannot lust for earth’s soil but he will adorn it. I am sounding a melody that I am a woman. A beautiful woman. A woman that cannot be defined by her striking assets cause that is unreal, untrue, plastic and deplorable. I am defined by what God put together, by dust and by truth. Truth is greater than an uncertain composition. I am more than what an eye can see.


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