I stand in the mirror again.
In front of me stands a pudgy little girl
With braces and breakouts covering her face.
A towel wraps around her, barely tying together.
I wipe the fog off the mirror.
In front of me stands the real girl.
The one who lost all of the weight
And grew into herself
But not enough to be okay with the girl she sees.
Mom, I'm sorry
You grew me in your stomach for nine months
And raised me for all these years
And I am still not grateful enough
To love the body you gave me
I'm sorry I hate the little girl you gave life to
I'm sorry I haven't been the daughter you deserve
But I want you to know that I try
And maybe that's why I'm so tired all the time
Because I spend all of my energy
Trying to be grateful enough
To be the person you made me to be.
