Misfits Fit

I’ve been labeled in life as if I were fresh produce in the store waiting to be bought.

But my bruises and blemishes, my deformities made me unworthy of the price the sign above me read.

I am the cracked egg in the carton that stores throw away after closing.

The loaf of bread that has been suffocated and flattened, sitting on the back seat of the shelf.

The shirt with a snag in it that you won’t buy because it’s not flawless.

That last box of hair dye that people have left out of place because my packaging was torn.

A tube of lipstick you refuse to purchase because you’re afraid someone else’s lips have touched me before you have.

I am the misfit toy.


I grew from cells, just as you.

Perhaps a few grew quirks while undergoing mitosis.

Yours must have, too.


I don’t need a #nofilter to show you that, when I take a picture of myself, that is all I have to offer.

I’m perfect without your black and whites, your sepia effects, your edge enhancements and your photoshop.

I will not crop my face into a certain square.

My curves, my blemishes, my every edge and feature is worthy of being caught in the frame and you will not chisel me down to size.

Every inch of me is different than all the others and my body, my face, my personality refuse to be condensed into your tiny, closed minds like milk sitting in a can of the shelf.

I am not a can of milk. I am a goddamned human being and I’ll be damned if I let you call me anything else other than what I am.

I am human, I am worthy of being loved, I deserve your utmost respect and I will demand every lost drop of your attention with the way my thighs jiggle when I walk and the way my hair falls around the edges of my face and the way my voice carries through the empty slots in your puny mind.


You will not give me any less than what I want because I, too, am a human like you.


Don’t you dare tell me that I am not perfect because I know that, when God created me, He knew what He was doing.

He created a Beauty, not a Beast.

I may not have the looks of a princess but I do have the class of a queen.

I am my own person and I stand on my own feet and walk the path that I choose to walk.

Whether that suits you or not, it’s what I do and, honey, there’s nothing you could do to change who I am.

Because who wants to mess with perfection?

I was created flawlessly. 


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