Lady Media - 2012

I place myself in the spotlight

nervous to see if I’m alright

will my short dark hair and brown eyes

live up to the title beautiful?

So I twist and turn, and stand on point

mounted on top of Lady Medias music box

letting her analyse every inch of my body with her blue eyes

she leans over and looks at my thighs

and says,

FAT!

not to mention your forehead

looks like a giant mountain

a mountain with even more little mountains on it

Let’s face it

You

Are

Not

Pretty.

And then with just a flick of her flawless finger I go flying

Her pretty pink paradise blurs around me

Vogue covers plaster her walls

a TV flick-flickers images of models strutting down the runway

and Stacey and Clinton on “what NOT to wear”

I suddenly see myself amidst it all

sitting on the carpet

brushing the hair of a hollywood Barbie

I remember

just wishing I could be

that quote on quote pretty

little plastic doll

then again

FLICK

I am gaining momentum

now sitting in the backseat

staring out billboard after billboard

of Mabeline

Covergirl And

a little needle full of botox beauty

Her words have injected their roots inside of me

scratching at my skull creeping through my veins

they try to uproot me from myself

She knows

with every bat of her eyelashes my envy grows deeper

I fear

in a few moments my jealousy will consume me

In her crystal eyes I see my surrender

I am transforming

shedding My skin

breaking free Of my own heart

so I can be

Pretty

though my heart pleads no nO NO

something cruel and cold inside of me says

you still aren’t good enough

and I listened

though

I fight and fight through the pain

I tear myself apart

Just so I can hear

you are so beautiful now

your porcelain skin and glass eyes gleaming

just like a doll…

Just like a doll

my life has become a game

and falsity is my play

this porcelain face is my mask

but it too fades away

no longer can I suck in my upper lip and keep my composure

through these sunken cheeks and swollen eyes the truth begins to arise

In my search for beauty

all I have become is a ballerina Barbie

the world’s definition of beauty

isn’t a reality

not for me

For me it’s the words that tore me apart

all the criticisms

all the listening to what everyone thought

I’ve listened so hard to their opinions I’ve become them

I’ve become those opinions

those opinions

that are based on what?

What supermodels say skinny looks like

what television says a woman is

and the body your boyfriend tells you to be

But this isn’t me

This is them

those girls

girls girls girls

always talking

about this and that

and her and him

and me and you

what am I to them?

So what if I don’t have

glowing white teeth

flawless grace

and the power to draw boys in

like a moth to a flame

I am a heart worth looking at,

shoulders worth leaning on,

and dreams.

I am enough.

I am beautiful.

and Beauty is more than a plastic surgeon

hair extensions

eye contacts

or the right genetics

I am more that