When I was little, I went through a brief period of longing for dimples so badly that I would stand in front of the mirror practicing and practicing, trying to form a smile that would result in at the very least a mere one half of a dimple. I thought if I could just train my face a certain way, the dimples would develop somehow and then last forever. I can't tell you why this was something I aspired to so fervently, but for some reason dimples were the thing I thought a cute little girl should have, and I was madly desirous of them. I blame this partly on the pretty girl who rode my bus and had long brown hair and the most irritatingly obvious dimples even when she didn't smile OH YEAH and that damned Cindy Brady.
(Kind of reminds me of the time, at around age 5, when I saw my little friend with an apparently glorious shag haircut and decided I had to have it RIGHT NOW and as soon as I got home took scissors to hair over the kitchen trashcan before anyone could stop me. Impetuous, even just out of toddler clothes...)
As I've now taken up residence in the meat of my 30's, I find a certain amusement in looking back on those strange little moments in my childhood when I wanted something so obsessively or didn't comprehend the value of my uniqueness. It is, of course, ridiculous for me to pretend as if in some ways, on some days, I don't still doubt parts of myself as a person, or occasionally get an incredible hunger for something I don't have...but it's nice to know that I can also feel myself poised ever-closer toward peaceful self-contentment and awareness.
Also, the last thing I practiced in the mirror was the perfectly-messy low side chignon. OH - and Speed Flossing.