I woke up feeling stunning. My hair was a mess, and last nights mascara was smudged all over my eyes. I did some morning yoga to celebrate how good I felt.
I’m going to Coney Island today, and I’m wearing this pretty blue dress my boyfriend bought me. It is flowy, yet hugs my pot belly perfectly, and it looks so cute. And it’s short, so you can see the scars on my legs, still red, which match the flowers on the dress. My thighs lightly dimpled with cellulite. I know some people might think I have no business wearing a dress today, but I don’t give a fuck.
I feel pretty, and witty and bright, bitch.