At first, it stung - like you intended. I was angry, I was hurt, I was defeated... if only momentarily. But it's true, the bags under my eyes are ever present, giving the external world some insight into how tiring my life can be. The wrinkles on my forehead grow deeper and deeper each year, carving lines into my face that show my journey like rivers carving through the earth. Like the lines that pass over my body, showing where I stretched to grow life. My body has changed, just as my life has. It shows of the long nights of being the only adult present to wake with a sick child, or to bring comfort after a nightmare. It shows of loss and pain, of the hardships we endure together and those that I must fight on my own so that my children do not feel the sting. It shows of the loves lost, and the battles won, and time spent healing the wounds. The external gaze is consistent and prominent, and that's okay with me. Assumptions and accusations are alright - it means I've given you reason to care. The truth is, though my body has shifted, molded to the life I've worked tirelessly to give to my children, I am no worse for wear. If anything, I have grown and strengthened... gained wisdom from my life course. So what you see on the outside is just a snapshot of the long nights, and the short days spent together, and the memories we will never forget. You're right, the bags under my eyes are visible - but the life we love to live will always be ours, and marks on my face are a small price to pay for that.
"I've got highways for stretchmarks, see where I've grown"
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