Staring at myself in the mirror pointing out my flaws
Sobbing on the inside wandering if I will ever be stunning
At 15, I was anxious to fix my crooked smile and bumpy terrain of a face
Leaving the orthodontist with my mouth full of $2500 worth of wires and pain
Going to every cosmetic store I could find
Applying crèmes full of unpronounceable ingredients because I want Angelina Jolie’s exquisite skin
Entering the surgeon’s office praying I`ll walk out flawless
With his red marker he marked he circled. Exciting I though.
As I laid there: my body butchered to perfection
Lying on the bed as the anesthesia wore off
My body screaming at me from the inside, outside saying “what have you done, what did you let them do to you?”
Walking out of the hospital wearing my new face as a façade
Walking through the mall, hands full of shopping bags as shackles
No different from the women searching for hours to find the perfect outfit that would make her looks ostentatious at the party
Exactly the same as the pitiful guy sitting at on the bar stool drowning his sorrow because not every woman found him attractive
Staring at my daughter as she practices attraction waiting for her to ask me “Will I be beauteous?”
Which I shall answer NO!
You will never be pretty; you may be pretty smart, pretty amazing, but
Perfection you will never achieve.
Shabby you maybe: sublime you will never