I cannot wear the red blouse.
Lines that defined my curves taunted my eyes
Blurry tears dripping as I ran faster into dusk
To fit into a teenage concept of “sex appeal”
Obsessive beauty enticed me with the promise of love
Broke my brain while tearing my heart:
My ribs heaved in anxiety, collapsed from confusion (utter depletion)
I wanted love outside of a chocolate bar (mother where were you)
Meals turned into rewards twice a week at best
Hell-bent to model size 0 as a lifestyle, my guru chanted “thin” as equating to “adoration”;
My mantra corresponded to lies in the trashcan…
Comparison is a dangerous pastime for
A romantic kid forging life like a bounced check.
Confidence fleeted in the dawn, I put my mask up and on
Every good day, the red blouse contained a secret
One that scared me, the one that eats you alive as you keep it
My mouth shudders at the ‘condition’
But, I know it very well.
(I wrote this for my poetry class at UNC-CH)