Worth

There are these times when I'm in bed, and my hand is in my hair. These newly washed playthings smell  of warmth and sunrise.  

I am tempted to click a photograph. To see these moments when I can call myself ‘beautiful’. When I  know that in front of everyone else, I'll be looking at how my shirt hangs from these love handles as that  cute guy passes buy. I'll flick my hair over and resume Operation Cool: first impressions matter and I'm  trying not to do that shy smile because I don't want to be seen as a toddler anymore.  

The thing is, I believe everybody remains the same age as I grow. I can't fathom not catching up to them  someday.  

Just this once, I want to look at the camera and think 'someone will love me' before I think of ‘Vain’ and  ‘Narcissus’. These curls that curtain my forehead are purely chances and mistakes, and I am all the more  for them. This body was deemed undesirable, my hair, my eyes undesirable and holes are just meant to  filled, the blank spaces that surrounds not meant to be admired, to be given form. How I wish every time I  thought of everything that I do: poetry, music, doggies, cakes, I didn't see the stranger that the world fits  the tag - 

Toned, healthy,  

a public perfection.  

I see my body, curves and all, the mirror clucks. Black always makes me look thinner, so I hide in shades  of cerulean and obsidian and the night is so welcoming. No eyes, just dirtied stars and my grass-stained  feet twirling my gravity round and round. I have never felt lighter.  

I can hear the voices so clearly: Beta we're not saying being fat is a bad thing, we're just concerned about  your health, that's all. We are just worrying for you that's all. We have conveniently forgotten that you  were a Biology student and are well informed on the dangers of being overweight and obese, that's all.  

We will just refuse to treat you like an adult because you're still a child in our eyes  that's all. 

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