This is a physical description of the character Elma. I wrote it a while ago because I was having trouble picturing her... she kept changing. I think this is how I want her to be.
I think the first sentence is awful-- too long and hard to read. Suggestions?
Elma
I know that people think that appearances shouldn’t make a difference, that what’s on the inside should count… and it does, but what is on the outside counts to… even if you don’t want it to.
So here goes. I thought that you should know a little more about me in terms of how I look. After all, I consider it part of my charm. I am five feet six inches tall… or at least I used to be. You can probably subtract two or three inches from my being hunched over all the time… plus I think that I’ve shrunk over the years—eroded away a couple of inches. I suppose you can add another inch back with my hair though. It sticks up pretty high off my head and out to the sides a bit. I think it’s because of the way I roll it. My hairdresser for years said that the best way to roll hair was with the hair rolled under, but I like it rolled up… it gives me more of a windswept look—like I just ran a little or a swift wind came in and danced through my hair.
Moving down from my hair I have two owl eyes… or at least that is what Sam called them when he was little. I have always had to wear prescription glasses and as I have gotten older the magnification is apparent on both sides of the lenses; I can see things bigger and subsequently better, but my eyes are magnified to the size of ping pong balls. Under my eyes is a little button nose that’s always pink. Under my nose is a little wrinkly pair of lips, usually painted bright pink to match my nose but this morning they’re still their natural faded rose color, and of course a thousand little wrinkles are embedded all across my face, most heavily concentrated around the outside corners of my eyes and in the little corners of my mouth where it looks like I have a permanent smile from so many years of pushing my lips out into a grin.
Holding up my head is an almost invisible little neck that has sunken down so far towards my shoulders that it looks like I don’t have one at all. My shoulders then, are narrow and droopy and attached to baggy old chicken arms and at the end of my arms are little stumpy hands with little stumpy fingers. The rest of me is rather similar; old fragile hips connected to little baggy legs with baggy knees and little stumpy ankles and feet.
So that’s me from my head to my stumpy little feet… all five feet six, or three, or four inches of me.
