All my life, I have been, that I need to be a size zero.
I have been told that, it is the best size to be and men will only be attracted me if were to be…skinny.
From a young age, this idealism of skinny has been crushed into my cortex for as long as it could comprehend, my grandmother tricked me into thinking that I was allergic to cookies so that I could keep my small figure. But the fact was, she was allergic to the idea of her granddaughter being anything less than a beauty queen, or one of those pretty girls on magazine.
Add six more pounds and we’re in the year 2008 thighs thicker, cheeks chunkier, and belly, looking six months pregnant.
Food, had become my only friend. Shoveling my mouth with things that we suppose to bring me comfort but had never left me feeling so empty.
Thinking about starvation
Yelling from the inside out
Shopping, had become my worse enemy, as if all the clothes in the store were yelling out to me YOU, WILL NEVER BE PRETTY!
But this poem isn’t for you to have sympathy on me no.
This poem is for the 50% of ten year old girls who wish they were skinny
This poem is for the girl that shoves food down her mouth by the day, and shoves her finger down in by night
This poem, is for the eight out of ten women, who are not satisfied with their reflection, but would rather reflect society idea of perfection
This poem is for that girl that curses her body every time is sees herself in the mirror and spits at the idea of ever feeling comfortable in her own skin
Please, hear my words
Your beauty is not determined by what the scale say.
All my life, I have been told, that I need to be a size zero.