You look at my body
And tell me i'm pretty
I turn away and you say
"Dang what a hottie"

Why is it that every time i hear
a catcall or whistle
instead of feeling good  
I turn in anger and I bristle

I wish when you saw my curves
you wouldn't gawk
instead walk over to me
and let's talk

I feel nasty in my own skin
I shrink out of embarrassment
uncomfortable in the only place I've ever been
wishing more than anything that I had no body

I fear that the only reason you like me
is not for my heart
wish that wasn't how it has to be
but that's how it's been from the start

So I will ask now
how
when
who
will love me, for me?