my mom never loved her body

she pointed at her beauty marks and called them flaws

she talked about her breasts which sagged with milk and complained about how the hanged down from her body and not upright like the girls in the magazines

she hates the wrinkles from her smile on her eyes and around her lips

whenever she asked me how she looked, i’d always say beautiful because that’s all i could see

my mom is perfect to me and will always be

how can a young girl look up to the woman who gave her the gift of life and not see beauty?

i learned the meaning of beauty is when i looked at her