When I look in a mirror,
I don't see that girl in the movies,
the beauty all the guys are after,
or even the nerd, hiding a banging body
and gorgeous eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses,
who becomes the beauty by the end.
When I take off my glasses,
all that is accomplished is the blurring
of the body I was born with
and my small, muddy eyes in the mirror.
I'm not the girl next door,
the Twiggy-like model,
the Beyonce-like singer,
or the Olivia Wilde-like actress.
And maybe that's all some see,
the girl who isn't worth a double-take.
That's all I might see too,
if it bothered me that I'm not J-Lo's body double.
But that girl in the mirror,
with the frizzy hair and the huge hips,
winks back at me instead.
I don't have a Minaj behind,
I have mine, big, round, and beautiful to me.
I don't have Seyfriend eyes,
I have mine, small, dark, and sultry to me.
I don't have Lawrence lips,
I have mine, pursed, plump, and perfect to me.
I don't have Klum legs,
I have mine, tall, thick, and sexy to me.
I'm not a creation, a mash-up of others,
but an individual body, one that can't be replicated.
I am beauty, I am strength, I am me.
Try to tell me otherwise, sorry, I'm not listening,
the girl in the mirror is talking louder than you
and she thinks I am exactly who I am supposed to be,
and to her I am flawless.