All along I hid my face, my arms, my thighs and all too well my gut.
Because in this modern day,
The bigger your gut was the
Less You're able to still enjoy yourself. Let alone another human being.
From grade five
The girls learn that boys
Only like the pretty things in life.
Pretty eyes, pretty nose, pretty hair, and pretty smiles.
In grade six
Girls pick up sticks and stones while they break their bones all for a sense of acceptance of a few classmates.
In grade seven
When they tell you your pretty "isn't pretty enough"
You learn how to hide.
In grade eighth
You tuck in your gut, you fake a smile, and continue to glare at the girls
Who just always seem to get the time of day.
When you go home and stare into the mirror and start to count. You count for the days to come , were your smile is just right. Your clothes seem to fall perfectly. When the cute guy saves you a seat.
You count and wait to be perfect.
But the thing about perfection is
No body is.
it's taken me this long
Grade twelve.
To figure that out.
I used to hate myself but now I'm just finding out that it's alright to not be alright.
