I used to have blue eyes.
(And really terribly uneven bangs.)
No really. I did. Until I was in 6th grade, my eyes were very clearly blue and then, well, one day they were not anymore.
My eyes are green.
Even though I once brought this up very topic with my mother and her response was, “What? Your eyes aren’t green! They are grey!” (gray? grey? gray? grey? I never know which is right.) Um. It seems that my mom might be a wee bit color blind.
They are such a huge part of who I am. They are my second favorite body part.Â They are the reason that my brown hair looks good on me, and the reason my favorite lipstick shade is called plum dandy. With the exception of my father and my sister, I don’t know anyone else with our particular shade of green.
As I was going through this whole color-changing Kafkaesque metamorphosis, my chameleon Donnie Wahlberg kicked the bucket. I’m not going to lie. The complete and total irony of this situation was not lost on me, not even a little bit.
Somehow I feel like some sort of fraud.
Also, possibly one of the X-men.