Her frame exposed from the way her dress hugs her body
leads her to feel that oh too familiar feeling
of disgust, of judgment, of guilt, of shame.
This day only comes once a year,
yet she allows the demons to dwell in that pretty head of hers.
Unable to shake the thoughts of deceit
she continues to smile.
She dances.
She laughs.
She dances some more.
The ceiling spinning, the lights flashing, the floor moving
she begins to fall.
Her figure has been wasting away for a while now,
food being a foreign object to her frail self.
Had she been told that she was beautiful growing up,
had she been told that she was worthy,
had she been told that she was loved,
had she been told that she was wanted,
maybe things would be different.
Maybe.

People surround her as she lies on the floor.
They know.
They know her secrets.
Exposed and vulnerable she comes back to the surface,
surrounded by the ones who love her for her strength, her patience,
her resilience, and her friendship.

One night.
It was all she had wanted.
One night to feel beautiful.
One night to feel free.
One night to let her walls down and be.
What she failed to realise was that tonight gave her all of those things.
Exposed, she entered the next step of her journey to self discovery.
She began her journey to health and healing,
knowing that in the ugliness she is beautiful
and in the tears that flow she gains freedom,
and that her sisters in Christ see her as God see's her:
a unique, fragile piece of art.