Starving, and crying. Starving and crying. Starving and crying,

is that the American Dream? How am I expected to compare myself to women in magazines,

when those women themselves differentiate from those in magazines?

Children brought into this world full of hatred,

I woke up everyday with the threat implanted in my head like a bullet that was shot into my

brain and stuck till it shattered every inch of me,

Baggy clothes to hideaway my body, hearing laughs behind me in hallways easily rose up my insecurities.

Everyday was just a burden to survive, a constant reminder to myself, saying

Everyday I thought how easy life must be when you can go to the beach and not wear a one

piece, when a guy could just carry you on their back when you're too tired to walk, when you

can wear crop tops without hearing whispers, when society won't judge you for every step

you take because of the skin hanging off your waist.

Mirrors were my worst enemies. A daily reminder of all that I am and not what I want to be.

Mirrors reflecting the fat I told myself not to eat.

Mirrors showing me all that needs fixing.

Mirrors saying the truth. . .                 

                                       or so I thought.

I woke up one morning, and saw myself, as a daily routine.

Pointing out all that is wrong with me, all my imperfections, all the insecurities.

With a sigh I left my house and walked the empty streets,

That's when I saw it, in the blink of an eye, a life was gone because of misunderstood traffic.

Tears streaming down my face, I washed away all the hatred I had buried in me,

Looking into the mirror now, reality struck me.

It's true, anyone could get hit by a bus in a given moment,

We all may look different, but we end up the same.

Alone in our own graves.

It doesn't matter whether you chose to not eat that burger in May, whether you decide to not

touch the freshly baked cookies, whether you didn't eat properly for one whole month

because of that boy in Chemistry, whether you starved yourself to make her happy, it matters

if you were happy. Happy in that moment, happy with yourself, happy with your body.

Nothing is more inconclusive, more random than life. And no one can make it beautiful

except your own mind.

I'm bringing my children into a world full of love.

I am free of my imperfections, free of negativity,

I realize if I'm content with myself, others opinions are unnecessary.

It is time to surround myself with love and happiness, no more insecurities.

I see myself in the mirror, and I see a lady,

A lady with grace and passion, one that can change the world with or without a muffin top,

One that radiates positivity and will not let her generation soak away into thinking being fat

means an ending.

If anyone comments on my weight, now it goes two ways.

Tell them I can lose weight but they need to waste fifty grand to fix their face,

Or tell them I'm beautiful and so are they.

My weight is just a number, it does not define me.

This number will never compare to my intelligence, my personality, my aura, my smile, nor

my dreams.

I am flawless, because I took my flaws and decided to use them as my confidence.

I am flawless, because my imperfections do not add up to all my amazing qualities.

I am flawless, because I know that even after hitting my lowest point, I got up and fought,

I am flawless, because my head is up, my nose is high, and goodness I am perfect and no one

can tell me otherwise.

I am flawless, because I choose to not live with any regrets, if I want to eat. I eat, if I don't, I

don't. This is me and my flawless body.

I know that bus can come any moment, I'm dying happy.