It shouldn’t look like this.
I stood there, awaiting my fate.
Every inch of me probed and inspected.
Just need a little taken in here,
a little taken out there,
but it won’t be just right.
I shouldn’t look like this.
On this pedestal, I see all.
I’m the judge, jury, and critic.
My arms are too fat.
My breasts oddly shaped lumps,
loosely free in the fabric.
My hips way too wide.
Nothing will fit just right.
They say, “Lose a few pounds. You’ll love the new look!”
Only when the pounds stubbornly slough off, new targets emerge.
My higher to heaven, closer-to-God fro is always dry and too big.
My glittering, deep, rich skin is too dark.
The slope of my nose is practically a mountain on my face.
I’m just not the right fit.
The three-fold mirror puts everything I don’t like in 4K.
No running from all the things not right about my body, my face myself.
And yet, the gentle curve upward of my plump lips,
the top dark brown and the bottom pinkish-red,
reminds me that rights can be wrongs, too.
Luci Strong is a budding writer, hailing from Mississippi. Her Southern experiences and upbringing shape her writing. She loves to read romances, thrillers, and fantasy novels. When she is not reading, writing, or working in healthcare, she enjoys baking, hanging out with family and friends, and binging various TV shows (current binge: Real Housewives of Atlanta).
Featured image by Charles Deluvio on Unsplash.
