Metamorphosis

I look at the girls on the TV screen and the magazine covers,

Their flawless skin, eyes, and hair.

I wanted to be them.

I could not see past the manipulation and lies of the media.

I could not see that not every girl was gifted

With long legs, big breast, and a tiny waist.

 

My world was distorted by images

Fed to me since birth.

I could not see that my weight was not obesity,

I could not see that my nose wasn’t too flat,

Or thighs too big.

The TV screen told me I wasn’t beautiful

my friends weren’t beautiful

and even the pretty girl down the road wasn’t even close.

 

I can still see the thirteen year old girl

Who stood in the mirror

Pinching and poking the so called imperfection that was her body,

And who went to bed praying and hoping

That she would one day wake up and like a butterfly

Would have gone through a metamorphosis,

To be as perfect as the airbrushed images she loved.

 

Now, five years later

I can see that it is not myself that I would ever dare to change,

But the media.

I one day hope that those images of the airbrushed and augmented women

Also go through a metamorphosis,

And become real women with real, beautiful imperfections.

 

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