If I were famous (revised)

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 still 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 flaws, quirks, 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.
And I would take these thick eyebrows, big legs, and slightly crooked teeth and make it all look glamorous.
Because flaws are a part of a natural mix.
The most beautiful I embrace who they are, taking the good with the bad.
And that right there deserves a high spot on the top 50 for sexist women in America.