Five foot one and a half,
I go to the doctors and the doctor says,
Little lady you are 155 and for your height you are over weight.

When I was young I was taught to sit up right,
Close my legs when I sit,
Look presentable for family parties,
And most of all put your best foot forward.

Mirrors were my best friend,
it told me the honest truth,
It didn't hesitate to offend...me,
I was always determined to be beautiful
While hiding in some corner stuffing my mouth with food,
Then running to the toilet and chasing my fingers after it.

Make-up became my salvation,
covering up my natural face and replacing it with a decent facade,
a cremation...for who I was.
The door we knocked on until it let us in,
A gilded room full of medical treatment to make us...BEAUTIFUL.

I made sure I hated myself enough,
And payed attention to the comments that floated in the tainted air.
I was fat?!
I won't eat tomorrow.
I have a uni brow?!
I'll make sure to get them waxed.
I'm breaking out?!
I'll double up on foundation.

Because why would I let anyone see me for who I really am?
Not when I have these magical solutions to create a new identity
Not when I can cover up my curves because, **** my genetics!, that my *** is too big or that I grow more hair or even that I have an ugly hair color.
Because we all now I was born to rock Red.

Yet inside there lays a wondering girl
Not sure where she belongs
And to preoccupied trying to find her way to realize she been converted to a drone.

When will this end?
When we start making our babies wear make-up and become materialistic.
When education is no longer a priority but what you wear to class.
Or will there be new inventions on how to create an image of someone you are not.

....How far are you willing to go to please others and lose yourself?