This body of mine is a prison that the guards think that they own, I can't walk out the door without my body being vandalized by words and hands of oncoming strangers like how a artist covers a canvas. I'm so tired of being shown to the world like a portrait. When does this body become my own, when am I allowed to take control. Maybe it's that time, maybe it's time to eat what I want and wear what I want. For once, I should be able to wear a little dress and not be called a hoe or being told that I asked to get followed down the street on my way to my family's home. Then again there are times that even my own family is against me, shouting out about how skinny I am and how I should eat more or that I need to skip dinner and start a diet. I'm done with these standards, I'm going to make my own rules from this point on. If you don't like it, don't look at it