I have been uncomfortable in my own skin for
14 years
3 months
and 2 days.

It was my 7th birthday and
Upon opening my presents,
All bright eyes and
Childish excitement,
I found a bra.
It was a small thing.
Frilly.
Pink polka dots and
White lace and
I,
Ever polite,
Smiled through my tears.

Last month my mother stood as statue while
I cried in the bathroom for over an hour
Because my chest was infected
And the doctor would have to
Remove my only armour to
Expose my back to cold steel
And my mother, (because she's the type of person
Who irons her clothes before she packs them
To travel across the globe),
Could not bear to see me wear a bra that was not
'Pretty'.
So, purple satin, push up, plunge neckline
Restraints were strapped to me,
And I could not find a jumper baggy enough.

Yesterday, you said that my outfit makes me look
like a 15 year old boy.
I said that's why I like it.
You might not appreciate that
Some days I want to step outside myself,
But don't tell me I'm weird for idolising bodies
That are more pleasing than my own.

You do that,
Too.