Letter to self:
Dear Me, you’re getting older. I see lines, especially when you smile. Your nose is getting bigger…You look (and feel) weird as you get used to this new reality. But your nose looks like your kids and your face wrinkles where you laugh. And yeah you idiot… you smoked. Every once in a while you consider altering your face, and then you watch a show where you want to see what the person is feeling... and their face doesn’t move. I cannot get behind it. I just can’t. I want my children to know what I look like when I’m angry. I’m fortunate because I’ve never really depended on my looks. I’ve decided that my talent and my individuality are far more important than my face. So get on board cause I am about to AGE THE OLD FASHIONED WAY (over 40 in a tutu ruling shit at 30mph and 100 feet up in the air) Yasssssssss!
p!nk.
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