Your face is a story

I was brushing my teeth this morning when I noticed two small faded scars on my face from my childhood. One on my chin from when I fell of a swing playing alone as a child, and one on my cheek from accidentally scratching my face with my bracelet and not noticing for over an hour. They're mostly faded, but I was surprised how they still remain, holding that piece of childhood for me. 

I've always been a little self concious of my nose, but the more I look at it, the more it looks like my grandmas, especially when I smile. So when I look like someone I love so much when I smile, how could I ever stop smiling? 

Growing up and even now, I have a chubby round face, so all the adults used to squeeze my cheeks and exclaim about how cute it was. Now, before I try and suck in my cheeks for a picture I always think of the love that was showered on my because of them.

At this point I've stared into my face for almost an hour, thinking about all the beautiful people that came before me with my features, how could I ever think that those people weren't perfect? And more importantly when I judge myself, I'm judging their thick brows and their round cheeks and their forehead and jaw and eyes. 

Suddenly I can't bring myself to do it anymore. Because I am a collection of these beautiful people and stories, and I truly love it. 

So next time you look in the mirror, be sure to ask yourself; what stories does your face hold?