Flawless selfie. Aww yeah. |
I can get up on a stage and spill my guts.
I can put my original writings up to the judgement of random audience members.
I can blog candidly about living with diabetes.
I can pull off bright lipstick.
I can wear stripes even though I'm over a size 16.
I can confess to you that I wear over a size 16.
I can go out with no makeup.
I can use my skin as a canvas.
I can love whomever I choose.
I can crack jokes about having chronic illness.
I can make one hell of a baked ziti.
I can be an administrative assistant.
I can be a writer.
I can be an artist.
I can be a communications professional.
I can have friends across the massive spectrum of shapes, sizes, colors, orientations, tattoo patterns, hair colors, genders and sexualities, and they are all awesome.
I can hug with the best of 'em.
I can give myself an injection in a moving vehicle.
I can prick my finger and test my blood sugar at the table in the restaurant, because I'm prepared with a statement if somebody is uncomfortable.
I can often do better.
I can acknowledge that I'm only human.
I can live just as well, and possibly just as long, as someone without invisible illness.
I can do this on my own terms.
I choose to be bold.
I can put my original writings up to the judgement of random audience members.
I can blog candidly about living with diabetes.
I can pull off bright lipstick.
I can wear stripes even though I'm over a size 16.
I can confess to you that I wear over a size 16.
I can go out with no makeup.
I can use my skin as a canvas.
I can love whomever I choose.
I can crack jokes about having chronic illness.
I can make one hell of a baked ziti.
I can be an administrative assistant.
I can be a writer.
I can be an artist.
I can be a communications professional.
I can have friends across the massive spectrum of shapes, sizes, colors, orientations, tattoo patterns, hair colors, genders and sexualities, and they are all awesome.
I can hug with the best of 'em.
I can give myself an injection in a moving vehicle.
I can prick my finger and test my blood sugar at the table in the restaurant, because I'm prepared with a statement if somebody is uncomfortable.
I can often do better.
I can acknowledge that I'm only human.
I can live just as well, and possibly just as long, as someone without invisible illness.
I can do this on my own terms.
I choose to be bold.