So one day
I stood before the mirror
And noticed how my thighs
Touched each other a little too much,
And how my belly drooped
Over the waist of my jeans,
And how my breasts were not perky.
That day I sat at the corner of my bed
And cried.
For hours.
Because not only was I betraying myself,
But I was doing the same to my daughter as well.
Because that day, as I stood before the mirror,
I hadn't noticed the way my body threw itself out in luscious curves,
Or the way my smile brightened up the entire fucking universe,
Or how I never hurt a person without cause,
Or the way I loved so boundlessly,
Or the many people that I had inspired.
No.
The mirror just spoke about my weight.
Because that is the only language it is fluent in.
So I had betrayed my daughter.
Because that day was only one of the many
That would eventually lead her to believe that she wasn't beautiful as well.
Because on that day
I was on the verge of destroying my daughter's self-worth,
By meddling with my own.
So I cried.
And then I rose up
And gave myself a huge hug.
And whispered to myself,
"Beautiful should be jealous 'cos it isn't you."
And I had saved myself,
And my daughter
Who would look at herself twenty years from then,
And only smile.
YOU ARE READING
Stelliferous
PoetryWords strung together by a broken heart.... Coming out jumbled by a wary mind.... Do read if you think that Words can either build our worlds Or destroy them. "And when your whole, wide world is lost in the abyss, I'll be that start that guides you...
