If I were famous

If I were famous, I would work on my self image before my hair, nails, and makeup for an upcoming picture.
I would demand not to be air brushed on camera.
The papparazzi could take all the embarrassing pictures; make all the snide comments in their captions, and think up whatever hurtful nickname they could think of.
I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
I would not resort to liposuction or a boob job so I could be on the monthly cover of Playboy’s magazine.
Instead, I would flaunt who I am.
The girl next store.
A female with self respect, ambition, and true confidence.
A person with compassion, intelligence, and strong will.
My heart would go out to any person who has ever felt like they had to conform to earn respect for themselves and by others.
I would stress through my actions, beauty is what you make of it.
Flaws are a part of a natural mix.
And I would make these thick eyebrows, big legs, and slightly crooked teeth look glamorous.
All because I would want to embrace who I am.
That right there deserves a spot on the 50 top sexist women in America.