"Beauty is pain." 

The phrase I was raised on.

My mom, my grandmother, my great grandmother-

Whether it was while brushing my difficult hair, or applying mascara to my innocent and eager eyes before school, 

it never ended. 

And because I was so young, and didn't quite understand why, I would reply,

"It shouldn't be!"

Because to a little girl it just doesn't click that you have to be pretty

or therefore suffer to get there.

I wonder what changed. 

Now adays, I roll out of bed and straight to the mirror,

I find the irony within the term, "Beauty sleep" then get to work.

Teeth brushed, hair done, face washed, makeup on

(I never leave the house without these essentials- NEVER.)

I take time choosing my clothes, even though my school has uniforms.

I slip on the high heels that make me go from 5'2 to 5'4, just like my mother,

and then I'm out the door.

At school it's the same, 

Good posture, good manners, don't speak unless spoken to, ask little questions- they better be good ones, pay attention.

And people have the nerve to say, "You're flawless."

It may not seem so bad, but there's glares behind every, "You wear size 0 jeans?"

and people assume the worst about me instantly. 

Rumors, whispers, comments, people stop talking when I turn a corner. 

"Is she anorexic?" 

"She must get around, if you know what I mean."


I remember the first day a girl told a lie about me to the whole school. 

I came home crying, eyeliner running down my cheeks, bleached blonde hair a mess,

finger nails bitten-

and anxiety pulsing, I went to my mother.

"Well," she said. "Beautify is pain."

Now, I'm not exactly a Beyonce' fan, and I believe maybe she could relate, but

I did not wake up like this. Flawless? 



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