I was supposed to have an ID picture taken today but two pimples came calling and decided to grace my face with their presence. One is near the bridge of my nose. The other is right on my cheekbone, probably thinking that it belongs to the constellation of four moles that form a curve from my left temple to the lower left part of my left eye. Not that two pimples would affect my looks tremendously. Zitless or not, my face would remain plain and uninteresting.

Considering this brutal self-assessment, imagine my surprise when I stepped into my room several hours ago and found my boyfriend painting my face. Three days ago, he asked to pose for him because he needed some reference for a painting assignment. I don’t care that he was painting my face for reasons other than¬†capturing my “beauty,” I’m still flattered to the little tingly edges of my toes. This is just a momentary lapse of realistic judgment.

I still know I’m not the prettiest girl on Earth (even though Uzi believes that I am). Why else would I make cute dresses?

Huh. This post does not sound right.

Oh, here is Uzi’s Queen of Hearts. Yes, that is my face. And yes, I am giggling.

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