They told me I was smart.

They watched me tie my shoes 

At age two,

And declared me gifted.

 

They told me I was beautiful.

They watched me smile

As I twirled in my new dress,

And declared me blessed.

 

They told me I was stubborn.

They watched me throw a tantrum

Because I wanted to close the garage door myself,

And declared me independent.

 

They told me I was artistic.

They watched me paint 

A watercolor rendition of my cat,

And declared me talented.

 

They told me I was a leader.

They watched me boss the

Others kids around like slaves,

And declared me superior.

 

They told me I was athletic.

They watched me compete 

Against girls twice my age,

And declared me a natural.

 

But they never told me not everything was innate.

They watched me battle

The habit they helped create,

And declared me naive.