I have spent many hours over the years
Staring sadly at pictures of girls with delicate pale skin
(Much like mine, but without stretchmarks or scars)
Who wore soft, flowing dress
And high cut shorts
And flower crowns
And lamented mentally the fact that I was not small
Or delicate or sprightly enough
To wear flowers crowns and pastel dresses and golden sandals
And I have spent many an hour soaking myself in the sadness
That who I feel like inside and how I feel I have to express myself
Because of my size, the width of my hips, the set of my shoulders
Were not things that matched
But I am trying my best to remember
That the bulge of my stomach
and the thickness of my thighs
And the stretch marks trailing over my skin
Do not make me unworthy
Of dressing delicately and femininely
And I am just as much allowed
To wear gauze and flower crowns
As the next girl