Okay, I should probably just say this up front: dimples are attractive.
My profile photo on Facebook kind of gives me a dimple on my right cheek. That’s part of the reason I like the photo. But really, I don’t have one, not a real one. I just sometimes have one of those lines on the side of my mouth when I smile. It’s not a proper dimple.
There’s something marvelous about the muscles and tissues that create a proper dimple. They all come together to form this indentation, this single point, that grabs my attention. As much as I’d like to think I’m not ridiculously superficial, it’s pretty much a given that dimples ruin that hope for me.
You know that phrase, “turning heads”? I’ve caught myself turning my head multiple times for dimples. Men, women, boys, girls, it doesn’t matter. For me, a dimple can always add tons of charm to anyone. If I see one out of the corner of my eye, I’m going to turn my head to admire it.
It’s especially bad with women in their twenties. As a guy in my twenties, I’m naturally attracted to these women regardless of their state of dimpleness. As my sister would say, “fact of life.” But then if they do have a dimple or two, it’s like, what did Friend Owl say to Bambi? “Twitterpated”?
Yeah. I might even say, “Enamored.”
The other day, I was browsing through photos on Facebook and ran across one with Momma and Zach. Zach, being Zach, decided to act like he was yelling for the photo. Momma just smiled, flashing her dimple.
Maybe the reason why I love dimples is because I love my mom. Yeah, yeah, I know about the supposed, Freudian slip, but not like that. It’s more that I love seeing her face. Maybe dimples are attractive to me because they represent someone who cares and who is genuinely happy, because that’s Momma, and she was the first person I knew with dimples.
