I look like a ghost today. I didn’t get much rest last night. I have dark circles under my eyes and I am pale because I don’t want to take the time to put on makeup. I don’t end up wearing much makeup; it’s just a personal preference.
I also have a cold, so my nose is a bit red and I am sneezing a lot. And not the cute little ladylike sneezes into lace handkerchiefs, I mean the big and loud kind into your sleeve because you forgot to stuff some tissues in your pocket (thank goodness for friends in Nonfiction class who rescue you from your plight by digging in their purse for a tissue). The sneeze reminds me of when I laugh, it’s certainly as loud. Sometimes it embarrasses those I’m with, but I usually just shrug that off.
My hair is not perfect, it never is. I am wearing the same somewhat long wool coat that I have been wearing for the past two weeks. It’s too cold for even my green trenchcoat, and it’s certainly too cold for my pretty girly jackets that I love to wear.
I am wearing wool socks that don’t match the blue or the charcoal-grey in the plaid of my coat, but it doesn’t matter because the socks don’t show. In addition to my usual jeans (not the tight kind, I didn’t like them when I was little, and I didn’t end up growing to like them when I was older), I am wearing a green T-shirt that reminds me of Robin Hood. I like pretending I am Rhianna Hood since I can’t be Robin Hood.
I am also wearing a long-sleeved silk shirt that I always take backpacking. The silk shirt is stained from numerous weeks in the wilderness where it’s impossible to keep anything clean. But I don’t mind that the silk shirt is stained because it doesn’t show either.
People only seem to care about what shows–the outward appearance. Remind me to tell you of the time I got charcoal all over my tan shorts after I’d washed them in the lake. Don’t ask me why I brought tan shorts on a backpacking trip because I don’t know.
I ended up wearing my darker-colored shorts more often than the tan ones on that trip because the tan ones were always getting dirt on them, or sometimes food stains from when I was clumsy and dropped things into my lap. Oh, also remind me to tell you about the time I charred the edge of the tan shorts after washing them because I got them too close to the campfire. But I’m off topic again. Anyways…
My appearance is different in the summertime, though sometimes not. In the summer I wear pretty dresses, sparkles on my cheeks, and braids in my hair. I make my eyes look emerald-green because of the turquoise eye-shadow I put above them.
Other times in the summer I am traipsing around in a tie-dye shirt and jeans with paint on them from a time when I was helping out with sets for a play. At times like that, my hair is usually in a ponytail or hanging wild around my shoulders. Sometimes in the summer I am tan; I seem adept at getting tan without trying to, which is excellent because that seems to be the fashion at the moment.
Other times I am rather sun-burnt. Especially my nose–it always seems to burn, and I seem to always forget sunscreen, or I can never get enough on it without it being pasty-white, and pasty-white is not fashionable last I checked.
My nose has a nice neat lump in the middle and is turned up at the end. I think a person’s nose can tell you a lot about that person. My nose says that I am irregular and out of the ordinary, it also says I have a peppery disposition and am sometimes am a bit prideful, which I am working on.
I think all guys should see their rose in winter. It would save them the unpleasantries of finding out later on that their rose is less than perfect.
If a guy can’t love a rose in the winter when she doesn’t seem pretty, then he ain’t got no business loving her in the summer when she’s gorgeous (because all roses are gorgeous, if you know how to see them as God sees them).
That’s my personal opinion, take it or leave it.