Am I Pretty Yet?
I turn like an unbalanced ballerina in the face of the mirror,
Examining each curve and pudge of the body I have been drilled to hate,
And squint critically as I suck in my stomach.
Am I pretty yet?
I burn my hair flat,
And smear harsh chemicals across my face,
Because the magazines said they would help.
Am I pretty yet?
My hip bones cut into the white ceramic of my bathroom sink,
As angry, critical eyes glare back at me,
Picking out flaws addictively,
As fingers probe down my throat for my body’s salvation,
The twisted ballerina arches, vomiting.
Am I pretty yet?
Am I pretty yet?
👁 9💬 1
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