i remember being in grade school
and wishing i was as small and thin
as the oriental girl that had beautiful penmanship
looking at myself, sitting in the chair
wondering my legs squished and enlarged
against the plastic seat.

why didn't i look like her?
my only memory is remembering how awful it felt,
knowing now that the brain holds onto grief
easier than happiness.
i was self-conscious even though i was just
ten, a young lady budding into the person i am today
but my looks didn't come around until
sixteen, peaked, and declined.

now again at nineteen
almost twenty
suddenly i see myself, i think,
here i stand in the mirror looking at all the errors
flaws that i was given,
a crooked, bent nose, and
fat elbows with creases that remind me of
an old man's face,
but if i take a deep breathe, and
look at myself after i just took a run
i'll see that, oh my
there's collar bones sticking out!
and there really is no extra fat underneath my chin,
oh, what was i thinking,
why did i possibly think my thighs were too fat?
my ribs protrude right here, and if i trace my finger along
i'll find my belly button, sunk into my waist,
right down to where my lady puffs up
like a cute balloon