If she told you she was flawless, she would be lying through her slightly crooked teeth.
Truth is, she's not perfect,
Her life is not perfect, and
She does not aspire for it to be.
Her food portions aren't perfect.
She never seems to get the perfect amount of sleep.
Her clothes don't match perfectly.
Her lips are kind of small.
Her jokes kind of suck.
She's not a 22-waist,
She is not Barbie.
She’s not society's idea of perfect.
I am looking at this girl's reflection through my dim-lit computer screen.
Sure, I don’t always eat the recommended serving sizes.
But I love my body.
Maybe I don’t get my eight hours of sleep.
But I am always dreaming.
Someone told me that my blue striped sock doesn’t match my black polka dot sock?
Excuse me, but I’m pretty sure that black matches everything.
My lips are kind of small.
But wow, my smile is big!
My puns are kind of lame,
But they will make you laugh, anyway.
I will not let tape measurers or womanizing men let me believe that
I am not beautiful.
How do you figure that waist size and breast size determines perfection?
I would never trade my natural golden-brown locks for chemically-dyed blonde ones.
And my legs are the perfect length for the rest of my body.
Sure, I am not society’s idea of perfect.
But I did, however, wake up like this.
Why would I want to be a fake plastic idea for children to imitate?
Why would I want to be anyone but myself?
The truth is, I don’t.
Sure, I am made up of mostly flaws.
But I love myself enough to know that my flaws, are in fact what make me perfect.
My imperfections are what make me