O that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!

So, about my cheeks. They are kind of chubby. I have no idea whether to classify my zygomatic bones as classically beautiful and high or . . . low. I only know that they are there. They are there and they are chubby and they are where I get most of my acne. No, it's not attractive, but it's honest.

My cheeks are also home to a few freckles though, and I kind of like those little guys! That's where Mama and Daddy still give me kisses. And where I can slap my hands to show you the best Kevin McCallister impersonation you ever did see.

I can flick them with my jaw wide open and try to make a raindrop sound, and I can slide my finger from the inside of it really fast and do a great rendition of that "Lollipop" song. I can bite down on the insides and make great fishy faces, too. When I puff my cheeks out really far I can talk without moving my mouth. Unlike my chin, my cheeks don't tell too much about what's going on in my head. They do go white when I have a needle in me, but they're pretty loyal and don't give away my embarrassment too much.

My cheeks are a blessing.