Pretty

To the person I used to be,

I have nothing to say,

Only to scream.

YOU ARE SO MUCH MORE THAN BEAUTFIUL.

 

In Middle School, you don’t get much,

Besides a grey locker,  new teachers, and the scent of BO pouring over every ounce of you.

In Middle school all you have is yourself,

But they never tell you how unreliable you can be at this age.

 

I didn’t know who I was.

I was just there.                             

Another face in the class photo,

Another body clinging to the wall.

 

The memory creeps over me when I find my way to the dark corner in my mind,

A plastic smile on a shiny cover of a magazine  my mother holds.

I remember her skin.

Smooth

Tan

And not an extra ounce of fat protruded anywhere on her.

 

Standing to a mirror I begin to only see the fat,

I only see my stomach,

My thighs,

And the flesh hanging from my arms.

 

I hide in overlarge sweatshirts,

Baggy jeans,

Potato sacks,

That can cover so many undesirable things.

 

While it seems everyone is coming into themselves, I shrink in.

 

I cry to my friend one night at a sleepover,

I am fat,

She says, no,

You are beautiful

 

And the thought occurs, to me,

Why can’t I be both?

 

That word,

That one silly little word,

Ruled over me,

for

three

years,

it held me in its chains,

while the flames of insecurity licked my bones.

 

Sometimes the ghosts haunt me.

The voices find me,

“We can be friends”

“Just lose some weight, and you will be happy”

“it doesn’t matter that you’re not pretty”

 

There are only a few things I want myself to hear.

You are not pretty,

You are god damn beautiful,

And it’s not just your face that is beautiful,

It’s not just your soul,

It is every roll of fat on your body,

It is every stretch mark that curves around your skin,

And it is every morning where you still role out of bed,

Knowing you will have to face the world that can’t love you,

Because you don’t look like you are photo shopped.

 

I would say,

I believe in you,

And I love you,

And you will make it.

Just hold on,

It gets better.

 

I would say,

You are so much more than beautiful

Guide that inspired this poem: 

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