I look old.

I look worn.

I look flawed.

But I look like me.

With a filter, yeah, but

without makeup,

without having any work done --

this is me.

And, at 34 years young, I'm finally okay with how imperfect I look.

I've grown to accept my slightly oversized nose.

I've come to appreciate the company of my ever-present under-eye bags and have fully grieved the loss of normal-looking eyebrows.

I've found fondness for my eye wrinkles and my laugh lines.

Because do you know what I've come to realize?

A version of me that hides who I really am,

and the visible markings of a life having been and continuing to be well-lived,

behind botox or constantly caked-on makeup,

isn't who I want to present to the world or to my children.

A version of me that loves, honors, and is proud of what I've been through and where I'm at, that's who I wanna be -- so that's who I am.

I'm 34, imperfect and proud, and no matter your age, if you need a permission slip to say the same,

this is it.