The Eyes Have It

Even at close inspection, outwardly I look no different than I did a few months ago. There’s no discernible “something is up” stamp that one could look at and say “her body is betraying her”.

Throughout my high-school years, I knew that there was nothing remarkable about my body, and it probably didn’t help that I was friends with five pretty girls throughout those years. I was what was referred to as the “late bloomer” in the group, so I had plenty of time to develop in every OTHER way. For instance, I was the quickest wit in the group, without question. I was the one go to with a plan, or solve issues, or figure out solutions and I nearly always had the fastest come-backs. I was the "funny" one and I was always "the buddy".

Up until the time I finally *did* get a body, I’d taken stock and decided that I had terrific legs. From that point on, I LIVED in short skirts and very high heels. The heels came in handy when, in my mid-20s, I’d started dating a guy who was over 6 foot 6, and he seemed to appreciate the effort. After a couple of years, our relationship had lost direction, and my feet were relieved when my legs and I walked away. By that time, of course, another body part had taken over the terrific title - my mother and sister both admitted that I had received all the “boob” genes.

Considering my recent boob betrayal though, I’ve decided now that I have terrific eyes. I’ve always been a fan of them – they’re a good combo of being both blue and green, they’re pretty honest with me and show me the entire picture (even when my heart begs them NOT to), and they’re not too proud to let me second-guess them every now and again. The best part of having terrific eyes of course is that I still have good legs, nice boobs and continue to tend to be the quickest wit, good with a plan, equipped to solve issues or figure out solutions, and I still have a quick-draw on “fastest come-back in the West.” .” I'm told that I'm still the funny one - and I have no doubt that I am a damn good friend (to those that allow me to have that cherished role in their lives).

I guess I’d like to be remembered for my eyes. Or, to use a line from REM’s “Try Not To Breathe”: This decision is mine. I have lived a full life, and these are the eyes that I want you to remember.