I have brown hair. It’s dark and boring and the color you couldn’t necessarily pick out from a crowd (because so many people have it), but it’s soft and silky and my mom won’t let me dye my hair… So I’m stuck with it.

I have brown eyes. They’re like black coffee and aren’t the kind a novelist would describe in depth, but they light up every time I smile and shine with any emotion I’m feeling… So they’re okay.

I have a tall body. I stand at 5’8”, the middle ground between my mother’s height of 5’3” and my father’s of 6’5”. I’m taller than a lot of girls my age, but I make strangers’ days at supermarkets by reaching stuff on the top shelf for them… So I’m content with it.

I have hairy arms. Even though the amount of Spanish blood I have running through my veins is not as large as the amount of white blood, it’s there, and it shows through in more ways than one. That being said, hairy arms is a constant in the females in my family… So it’s all good.

I have a loud voice. It can call attention in a room full of people, and it comes in handy quite a bit because live theater reaaally requires you to be loud. I actually like my loud voice, even when people tell me to quiet down… So I enjoy it.

I have a chunky body. It’s lumpy and large and yes, it’s not my ideal body. But I’m curvy, and I love it. I love my body. I love my brown hair and my brown eyes and my height and my voice. I love myself. So I’m okay with the little things I feel self conscious about. At the end of the day I love myself, and anyone who doesn’t can shove it.