Wonder(ing) Woman

Tonight kisses my face and hands with a mild chill.
i'm almost comforted by the abundance of doughy belly belting my waist despite making these jeans impossibly unstable against jelly padded curves. i want to be beautiful in a pure crystalline, contoured way but losing my squishy warmth seems nakedish and pulsing vulnerable.
Comfort is central in my sense of tranquility because to me comfortable means both content and able to comfort.
Can i become captivating and charismatic without losing my ability to console and be considerate?
Can i embrace my potential for beauty without drowning in a nexus of competitive conceit?
i want to be a wondrous paradox: dually light-hearted and taken seriously.
Pretty, funny and pretty fucking smart.