I wasn't mad at him, really. I know for the most part this particular fellow never means ill, he's just uber thoughtless.

Anyway, I overreact, as usual, and feel ugly for days. It's such a tough journey, coming to terms with your face, your body. I know what I'll never look like. I know what I do look like. It doesn't get better than this.

In five years, I'll start showing my age, I'll wish I had my skin when I was 29 again. And I'm not appreciating it now. I'll get the hooded eyes and neck wattle, because my mother and my grandmother have it. My hair will thin to the point of scalp showing through, because my hair is so thin and fine, and my gramma's does it. I'll just get paunchier, and droopier, and more cellulite.

I miss my 16 year old body. I thought I was fat then. I was blinded by media.

I have, however, gotten used to my face. I know my face, I know what it does. I am lucky to have my face, it works, it smiles, it blinks, the muscles are not frozen, I can smell, see, taste and hear out of it. It's not scarred or burnt.

It's a good face.