Honey, you look like a pug!

These words came out of the mouth of my beautiful boyfriend (my now husband) a few mornings after I came over to stay with his parents in England.  There was no hiding, no denying that I was no natural morning beauty when I would bump into him in the hallway on my way for a shower with sleep marks still stamped on my cheek and  epicanthal folds for ten. Why couldn't I save him and me this hard truth until marriage. Oh well.


Over the past year, I have come to genuinely care less about looking 'perfect'...whatever that is. When I was young, I didn't go through an awkward stage but an awkward decade.  My hair frizzed and puffed, my eyes decided to swell all but completely shut, braces were added to the mix along with sports bras that I wore well into high school. In layman's terms, I was a fox. 
I was also very insecure and the thought of a boy I liked seeing me bare faced and frizzy would've made me cringe. Now, I just don't care. I'm embracing my frizz, my makeup-less face and the fact I look like a pug in the mornings. (photos below to prove the point)


13 Months later...
Me: Babe, do you still think I look like a pug or has love made you blind yet?


D: Yes, but a really cute one. 


And this is why I married him--he's flattering even when he's telling me I look like an adorably ugly dog.