Malleable

It’s funny how we keep getting skinnier…

never

quite

enough.

Waists, the circumferences of pennies,

People spend more dimes.

Clavicles protrude through sheer tops,

Jut

Out.

Ribs easily countable,

Hips form perfect places to prop palms,

While not waiting for a meal to be ready…

I know the feeling of being hungry,

And feeling like I shouldn’t eat.

Seeing girls who are compact,

Making me wish I were

smaller,

smaller… until

I were

nothing…

Mini ballerinas float into the

Media as they drill into our brains that we are

Never Never

good good

enough, enough,

Never perfect.

Always something to change.

Willowy models strut down the runway,

Miniature legs, lengthy yet thin,

Stick o   u   t like branches, twigs,

easily breakable...

Careful not to step too “out of line”,

It’s not the people’s dreams we think of

it’s their dime...

Women should be seen as beautiful always.

Not barbie dolls,

Or pin-ups for men to hang on their walls…

to play with,

Toy with,

Like puppets,

One twitch of the wrist can cause a whole body to contort...

And expect no remarks, no interjections from us...

Women should not be diminished,

squandered,

decreased, or

belittled...

Objects of greedy eyes.

The product of making perfection.

Cherry red lips,

Deep set eyes,

Innocent as a lambs,

l   e   n   g  t  h  y, thick hair

that

c

a

s

c

a

d

e

s

down like curtains,

parted to expose our

well endowed chests.

We all started off as children

Faultless…

Never knew what was coming...

Thin waists will make a

thin heart that thumps,

beats

s   l   o   w   l  y.

Wanes on the last, chilling breath of air that is held from within…

Finally exhaled on a whisper,

That sighs out,

Deflates the already flattened stomach.

Reveals the story of how it was all a game...

Society worships

bones

and

angles...

While we

Shrink into

Ourselves until we are

eyeballs and hair.

Until we are

Cropped just so...