I am obsessed with my looks. There, I said it. Not the type of obsessed that I can’t pass a mirror or other reflective surface without checking myself out. I’m not arrogant in that I think I’m so beautiful that I simply must have another look at myself. I don’t take selfies anywhere and everywhere and scatter them throughout various outlets of social media. I don’t make selfie books for my husband, Kim Kardashian-style. But I’m obsessed with certain aspects of my appearance. I don’t quite know how or when this “obsession” started, but I suspect it had something at…
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