I have a hot body, but I need you to know that I’m much more than that: I am also an old soul. So here I am, just an old soul trapped in this smoking hot body.
From the outside, I look like a gorgeous millennial woman but wherever I go, I’ve always been the lone wolf, the odd woman out. Even when I was a beautiful young child, I’ve had intense and deep thoughts swirling around in my head about life, death, and everything in between. I get along with my grandma’s friends better than anyone my own age. But despite being wise beyond my years, I can’t figure out how to get out of this gorgeous body. Seriously, I can’t help it!
People are always saying, “Hey, why are you complaining about your hot body?” But honestly, it’s not like that at all. This is just a sexy skin suit that happens to look good naked, in spite of the fact that inside, I feel more like a wrinkled, wise woman with knitting hands. Seriously, you can HAVE this tight and curvy thing because I don’t even want it.
I do understand why people might not believe that, underneath this effortless six-pack, there is a beautiful old soul just waiting to be noticed. But whenever men try to do shots off my flat stomach at parties, all I want to do is wrap myself in a blanket, grab my tattered copy of The Bell Jar and quietly track the Fig Tree motif.
Next time you’re contemplating running your fingers through my soft hair, remember my brain underneath all that hair is contemplating the meaning of life. I have so much wisdom beyond my 26 hot body years.
Whenever I go to the beach, just to get away from the city I call home, people flock to me and offer to lotion my body. I try to explain to them, “I’m here to soak up the sun, to feel the sand between my toes, to rest my weary soul.” But all they can see is my tight body with a teeny bikini slung on it. Sometimes I wear a sarong, but I don’t know, they’re kind of itchy. I just wish people would see me for who I am!
I also can feel that I’ve lived many lives: three as bugs, seven as wild cats and one as a flapper. That’s why this body means nothing to me, it’s my old-ass soul that’s my true identity. It’s not my fault I have white teeth or this music video ass. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: I am merely trapped in this perfectly toned, conventionally attractive prison!
Even though you may just see a regular hot body when you look at me, believe me, my very old soul is trapped in here. Please, I beg you to look beyond this sexy confines in which I live!
