You're Beautiful, I Just Want You To Know, You're My Favorite Girl. . . .

I've noticed lately that when addressing me The Second has made a habit of calling me Beautiful. Perhaps not so much intended as a compliment as maybe a term of endearment, which really either way beats the pants off any of my other nicknames, or even my regular name. But you've got to be careful not to let these sorts of things go to your head, although I'm sure that for myself it wouldn't be entirely detrimental.

It's funny though how something so simple can make you realize things about yourself that otherwise you'd never notice. The Second always reminds me of the importance of confidence. More often then not it can be the deciding factor as to whether you're picked out of a crowd or not. Of course there's a fine line between too much and too little confidence, thus presenting the challenge of acquiring just the right amount.

If you would've asked me a year ago what I like about myself, I probably wouldn't have hesitated to tell you, "nothing." I know I'll never be one of those tall, dark, exotic women. I'll never look like Dolly or Vicky. But there are moments when I catch a glance of my reflection in a window or mirror and wonder, "Who's that girl? She's quite beautiful. . . . . ."