belated valentine.

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As a student, I’m broke and have no money; of course.  So this past Valentine’s Day, me and my Valentine decided not really to spend any money on each other, and focus on doing things that show our love for each other.  Through something sentimental rather than material things like chocolates and roses (although he still got me roses).  We wanted to show that we loved each other for who we were, and express our love that way.

So instead of getting chocolate, since I don’t like chocolate anyway, I got plantain chips and a homemade picture album.  And I was monumentally happier than last year’s flowers and chocolate.

For him, I got him a jar full of his favourite candies; peanut butter chocolate cups, chocolate covered almonds and pretzels, and Hershey’s Hugs.  And then I wrote him a short story about how we got together.  Precursor:  we were good friends all through high school, and didn’t start dating until years later.  Enjoy!

Once upon a time there was an imperfect girl. And she was very imperfect.

She had big, crazy, unruly hair. And her shoes in gym, were always the biggest pair. The clothes she wore, her parents got to choose. And they never, they never, packed Dunkaroos. And she noticed that she had hair on her arms. And she wore Adidas when everyone had Phat Farms. The other kids watched cable, while she went to bed. And while she had twelve grain, everyone had Wonder Bread. But she had friends; she played soccer, so no need to fret. Mmm, but then sometimes she would even score on her own net. See, Imperfect girl, was nice enough; sure. But her low self-esteem was almost too much to endure.           

Then the unruly, imperfect girl grew a little and became an imperfect teen. But she grew up with the hopes of finally being seen. She got taller, and leaner, and even kissed a few guys. But the ones that seemed so nice were the ones with all kinds of lies. These boys, it turns out were never what they seem. Maybe it was that her eyebrows were just too extreme? She wore braces when no one else had them anymore. And she was afraid to show her house because it made her look poor. Then she started to frequent with too much booze. And all the while, still, she could never find the right shoes.      

It was exhausting. Imperfect girl just wasn’t good enough.

Eventually, Imperfect Girl started to feel like just that: ugly, and worthless, and just way too fat. She just couldn’t seem to get any of it right. Was it that her hair was too dark: that it just wasn’t light? Was it that her eyebrows were always just too much of a sight? Perhaps it was simply that she was just the wrong height…

So Imperfect Girl began to lose some of her confidence.

Imperfect girl began to feel lost. How many bad paths could she have possibly crossed? She made up a list, and created a pile. What did she need to do to make herself feel worthwhile?

Then one day, Imperfect Girl met a boy. Well actually, he had really been quite coy. It was right during the time where her eyebrows were too thick, her hair wasn’t quite slick, and her clothes? Always the wrong pick.

She had known him all along, but he never let his identity arise. See, he always stood near, but just in disguise.

It’s almost like he was the cure. Like the boy was made specifically for her.

And she knew it because the words coming from his mouth, they suddenly rang true. And those eyes of his: the perfect shade of blue. Although sometimes, they had just the slightest tinge of green, and somehow even his harshest words never quite seemed mean. And his smile, well his smile, would light up her heart. And she knew, she knew, they should never be apart.

Because he changed her, he loved her, he told her of her presence. Of her beauty, of her soul, and her luminous essence. For he saw in her; something, through the curls – that unruly puff, that she – as she was – would always be enough.

 

See, you are the boy that lightens up my days. My companion when I am playing Catchphrase. You love me for the girl that I am. You love me, even though I’ve stopped eating lamb. You love me when I complain that my shoes are too tight, you love me when I cry when Jeannie dyes my hair too light. You love my imperfections, and my crazy little quirks. You love me for me, and that’s why this works. 

I love you… That’s basically all I have to say.

 

Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day.

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