yellow

mommy issues

I grew up idolizing you.

The little girl beside you stared at you with stars in her eyes as you got ready in the mirror.

She couldn't believe someone so beautiful existed was standing right in front of her.

Taking in everything she saw with every breath.

From your light makeup down to your clothes and high heels.

You were stunning in her eyes, so why couldn't you see it yourself?

You'd stare yourself down in the mirror, trying to nitpick at every flaw you could in under a minute.

You'd hit your hips, wishing they were wider.

You'd ruffle your hair, wishing it wasn't so thick.

You'd pluck your eyebrows thin because you hated the hair on your body.

It grew concerning the longer you'd stare at yourself in the mirror every morning wishing to be different.

You're so beautiful when staring at me with a bare face, so why are you frowning?

You'd grip your stomach fat before sighing. "Que gorda."

My siblings and I grew inside of it. Why are you saying that to yourself?

"Que muerta mi miro, que fea se mira."

You'd say these things with no shame, is this how you love yourself?

You were too focused looking at the mirror and hating your flaws, you didn't even notice the little girl mimicking you.

As you shoved your face in any mirror you could find, scanning for anything to point out and hate, the child followed your steps.

Growing up to pick apart any flaw she saw her mother hate and cry over how "ugly" she was.

Feeling like she was disappointing because the doctor called her overweight, and you agreed.

I can't blame you; you didn't notice the impact of your words and actions back then.

But, if you did, would you take them back?

Would you believe me when I try explaining how you're naturally gorgeous the way you are?

I played dress up with your things hoping to look like you.

I don't want to become you.