As I walk down the hall,
I try my best not to look
But my eyes can't help wondering
To the bear trap on the wall
There it hangs, innocent
Quite large and heavy
It's frame gilded and blood red
Such a beautiful container
For such an ugly image
Judging myself, like I know others will,
I start with the windows to the soul
Mine aren't chocolaty, golden, or any other adjective better than brown
They contain no shades of hazelnut or a lively twinkle
My eyes are not wide or expressive
They are not pretty or emotional
They aren't even symmetrical
Moving down my face, I inspect my nose
I'll acknowledge that there's not much to look at
After all, it's only a nose,
But it's just not quite the right size
Or in quite the right place
My cheekbones are not high,
My eyebrows are not groomed,
My lips are not plump or kissable,
And my skin,
My skin in not smooth or soft
It is not clear or radiant
It's certainly not unmarred
And my hair is not soft, silky, or tame
My eyes follow a familiar path,
One they've traced many times,
Down, down, down to my waist
I can't resist the temptation to lift up my shirt
I check from the front and the side,
But it's still not good enough
I suck in until I can't breathe,
But it's still not good enough
I wear all black,
But it's still not good enough
I skip half my meals,
But it will never be good enough
I will never be good enough.
