I can imagine,
walking down the main street of the little town we lived in,
squirming my hand out of my mothers hand,
craning my neck,
wide eyed,
to look at the people passing us by.

what if I saw myself,
a decade in the future?

I would never even know it was me.
would I look at my mid-length hair,
and think it would be prettier longer?
or my dimpled cheeks,
and wish that I could fill them in?
would I see my waist,
and want to squeeze it smaller?
or my thighs,
forever too big to be 'beautiful'?

no.
because in the mind of a child,
none of that would matter.

I would look up at these
tall, independent, powerful girls
and want to be like them.
I wouldn't care that my thighs touch,
or that I don't have a flat stomach,
or that I don't have Rapunzel's golden locks.
I wouldn't want to change me.
I would want to grow up to be
just as beautiful,
powerful,
independent,
strong,
talented,
lo­ved,
intelligent
as I am now.