Let's just cut to the chase; I'm insecure.

Is this a ludicrous statement? Not at all. Do other people have things they're insecure about on their own bodies? Of course. However, knowing it's perfectly healthy to not be perfect and being fully aware that a perfect person does not exist, this information for most people is just not enough to make any sort of difference.

That's when it hit me; I address all my insecurities on this extremely public manner to completely counteract my private demeanor. What can go wrong...

Basically for the past few months, these demons have been plaguing me to an intense degree using their combined forces, but giving each of them their 15 seconds of fame could be a surefire way to contain them, and it sure as hell can't hurt anything, right? If anything, at least mine can be a trial run and/or a cautionary tale.

These inhibitions will control me no longer. I cannot revolve my life around appeasing things other may never even notice.

And so, without further ado, here come's the reason you chose to click on this URL;


To My Cleft Chin,

You were the first, and for a while, my only big problem. I remember being in dance class, looking over my black leotard in the mirror plastered upon the entire wall, and attempting the best pirouette a four year old girl can do. I was having a fun time, until another little girl in a pastel pink tutu and brunette sock bun prances up to me. Her tiny index finger instantaneously goes to my chin, and traces the crevasse. I was confused, until she scurried off to her other friends to discuss my "butt chin" with them.

I timidly looked in the giant mirror. She was right.

That day froward, I would sit with my elbow resting on the table and my left hand cupped over my cleft. A girl doesn't forget her first act of female on female hated (no matter how innocent it may be), and this incident plays on loop whenever I see any picture that highlights this robust feature. But this does not define me.


To My Under-eye Bags,

Ah, junior high. The time where hormones run rampant and our biggest stress in life is trying to decide who to sit with at the football games. At least, that should have been the case for me. While the chin thing was something I was practically a pro at hiding, a new issue soon emerged.

Day after day, I received the same comment of "Brandi, you look so tired!" and I could not for the life of me figure out why this kept reoccurring. I was the kid who went to bed at 9:45 on a late night. Then, low and behold, another mirror provided an answer;

I never noticed my bags until that day. Now that's the first thing I notice when I wake up.

Tween Brandi's solution to this was a chunky concealer about three shades too dark, but adult Brandi knows how to make these look minimal at best. Genetic under-eye bags never go away, but this does not define me.


To My Thin Lips,

I'm a huge makeup lover. And while some trends are silly, I usually try and keep up with the times. Highlighter? Love it. Contour? Daily. Overdrawn lips? Well...

I would if I could. My lips are but a whisper, to say the least. Wispy. Oh boy, if I had a nickel for every time my lips have been called wispy, I would have enough money to get plastic surgery to permanently fix all insecurities. Having thin lips to not really bother me, until the world decided that thick lips were the way to go. I was hopeful that a little bit of lip liner could ease my worries.

Then I looked up. A clown with unnatural blobs of bright red everywhere looked back at me. I quickly decided that no matter my makeup expertise, I could never pass as a Kylie Jenner lookalike. But this does not define me.


I could go on and on about other things that I am less than pleased with on my body, but those do not define me.

These mere imperfections do not define me. They don't define you either.

Getting all of these out in the open was truly a liberating experience. Slowly yet surely, I am coming to terms with the things I cannot change. And maybe I shouldn't be so desperate to change these things. There are days where my cleft chin is called "unique" by girls who display the utmost sincerity. There are days where my upbeat attitude deters any notion that I may be "tired", despite what my bags may say about me. There are days where while my lips aren't plumped, the color is still stunning and reminiscent of a sunset.

There are still days when I let my insecurities win, but those days don't define me.