My sneakers are covered in mud,

my thighs sore from the wieght,

I keep pushing myself,

an image flashes through my mind,

a model from a magazine,

I think of all the ways I could improve,

I tell myself not to idolize those women,

instead to idolize myself,

because beauty is the way I smile,

it's the way my hair falls on my shoulders,

it's when I have food in my teeth or paint in my hair,

beauty is the imperfect things about me.