July 17th 2014 11:49 PM
On the day I was born
I was given the name Felicia
Because my momma thought I was beautiful and happy
By the time I was a toddler
I did not think much of beauty
Nor did I think much of myself
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy
When I started school
I started to see beauty.
I thought it meant blonde hair
And pastel coloured skirts
I had neither, but did not think much of it
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy
By the time I was in third grade
I saw beauty even more
I saw it in my mother,
My friends and my teachers.
I thought it meant a smaller body
But that, I didn't know or think
Until I found out I was ten pounds lighter than my oldest brother.
He weighed 140.
I started to really think about beauty
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy
By the time I started middle school
Things had really changed
I was not like my peers
I felt unbeautiful and awkward.
I began to loathe myself
I started seeing beauty
In everything but me.
Found fake love once
Forever scarred my heart.
Started developing phobias,
Couldn't be seen with some people
Couldn't let anyone hear me breathe.
I thought way too much of beauty
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy
When I was in seventh grade
I thought beauty meant good clothes
Pretty smiles
Fatter wallets
And thinner waistlines
(All of which I had none of)
I thought a lot about beauty
Decided to try something new
One
Two
Three thin slices into my skin
(Found out cutting wasn't really my thing)
I made good friends
Tons of bitter enemies
That all, I felt, were prettier than me
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy
When eighth grade rolled around
I knew lots about beauty
But started caring for little of it.
Homelessness had racked my life
I worried more about keeping up with school
And picking up a new instrument
Than worrying about beauty
That I still thought a little about.
I made friends that didn't care either
I decided I can live my life
Ugly, in poverty, fat, and awkward
Although some nights I still did cry
About how I never had a boyfriend
About how no one ever showed interest in me
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy
When I started high scho
Beauty was everywhere I turned
But a developing affair I had
With the lovely marching arts
Took all my worrying and cares
Away from beauty
But not completely.
I thought beauty meant
Shorter shorts
Tanner skin
Straighter hair
And an older age.
I was bullied for being a freshman
And often picks on for being far
I didn't care much to look at myself in the mirror often
But I outwardly cared much less about everything
Putting off a persona.
Found better friends
And less bitter enemies
That I thought much be a little prettier than me
Also found some bad friends
That couldve gotten me in trouble
Ones that helped create a nasty habit
Of taking things that weren't mine
I however saw a little beauty in myself
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy
Now, when I was a sophomore
I believe I truly found myself.
If not all, then bits of myself.
I made even greater friends
Maybe even found love
And an ever deepening love for the marching arts.
I thought beauty meant
Great musical skill,
Being a good person,
An having a passion for something greater than yourself.
I started to find beautiful things in people
That we're sometimes reflected in me.
Does that mean I started to think I was beautiful?
I guess it does.
But I started to accept myself.
All my strengths
My flaws and my quirks and weaknesses
And I believe that comes along with finding yourself.
However,
Academic life started to slip
I did not care much for it
Did not care much for anything, really
But two things:
Love. And band.
Which both have kept me from
Falling into a deep dark abyss
That both of my siblings have experienced and ensures
One I do not safe fall into.
My nasty habit
Had only deepened
And gotten even more daring.
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy
Today
I am fast approaching junior year
I am becoming a young adult
And I see beauty in everything
Myself included
It's amazing
And truly liberating
To feel this way
To not worry
Of what others think of me.
I still have phobias I had developed earlier
I still have the scars where I thought a solution may be found
And I still have a nasty habit
Yet I feel beautiful.
Some days are bad
Most days are good.
I have accepted myself enough
To take a step out of denial
And head toward the truth of change
And still
Through everything
(Although there is much here she does not know about)
My momma thinks I'm beautiful and happy.