burnt pages.

perfect.

one day a boy passed by my and told me i was too chubby to ever have an attractive boyfriend.

i was in the eighth grade. 

so i stood in my bathroom and stared in the mirror.

am i thin yet?

cellulite thighs, pudgy stomach, and chubby, child cheeks.

one day my best friend told me i'd better go easy on the chips, or else i'd look like I did last year.

i was in the ninth grade.

so i stood in my bathroom and stared in the mirror with dusty edges.

am i skinny yet?

flat stomach, slim face, and legs that could kill.

over the summer a girl told me i was too fat to be in the same place as her.

i was in the tenth grade.

so i went into the bathroom in my ward and stared in the dirty spotted mirror.

am i tiny yet?

yellow skin, sharp hipbones, and a thigh gap wider than shoulder width.

one day when i was laying down, my mother leaned over and said i was too pretty to leave.

i was supposed to be in the eleventh grade.

i looked down at my frail body and stared blankly.

am i beautiful yet?

closed eyes, makeup done, but a body that showcased every bone i had.

am i perfect yet?