Quandary

Today I dressed in all pink because I made the mistake of leaning in close to the mirror. I SAW my enlarged extremities, and the forced eruption of my genetic impurities, shouting my ILL health and bad habits of hating myself. So I muffled them with sticky lipstick and concealer, but they just made their voices deeper and CONCAVE, taking in my gags and hanging them from my skin because that's mine. And I put on a bow to hide my forehead, wishing that I was Muslim so that I could wear a hijab and have people wonder if I was really beautiful under there— if people wouldn't scrape the ground to wonder, first, if I was a terrorist. But I AM. And the terrors of my self-restraint make me preach COURAGE and tell people they can be happy even when they want to cry. The pink. To draw attention away from my self- centered jealous admiration. But I felt like a child and my young self was ashamed to align to my side, so I left the pink in a crumpled HEAP and borrowed black to match the grease.