Models must be the most insecure people on the planet...

Day after day being told you're beautiful, one out of a million,

Only to have your picture remodeled.

Torn apart, covered up, stitched, and placed so carefully back together again.

This is, of course, after hours of make-up, wardrobe changes, diet plans, and hair products.

As if your body needed demolition...

After total reconstruction.

Day after day seeing you, not in a mirror,

But instead, looking upon a ‘perfect’ stranger.

Something that should be you, but isn't,

Simply because how you look isn’t good enough for ‘image’.

You lacked what was needed, you lacked ‘perfection’.

Our society is one that puts beauty above everything else

But doesn’t even consider the beauty that relies solely on self.

To have a kind heart isn't enough anymore, to make one look

Upon you with admiration, and see who you really are.

No...

And then there’s the rest of us,

The ordinary folk.

People who weren’t blessed with supermodel looks.

And we are judged accordingly.

Look to the side of you, in front of, and behind you.

See the people who try to define you,

The mean, the loose, the weak, and the broken

Trying to work you into a simple equation.

Based on what they see, what they think, what they’re told.

Blind men putting together a puzzle, makes no sense.

So why is this our label, our ‘equation”?.

Like what we are is a simple formula.

slut

beggar

stupid

ugly

lazy

poor

rich

common

boring

nothing…

But what you don’t know is this is not your definition,

Simply someone elses opinion.

A person who uses their judgment and takes your base,

And adds a completely new face, that leads to disgrace.

Something that binds, rather than frees.

You're a model for the world around you to defeat.

To beat down like a dog, until you whimper with fear.

Cowed and pathetic.

Lost and alone.

Until one day you begin to believe the lies you’re told.

 

And suddenly you aren't seeing your mirror,

But instead a ‘perfect’ stranger.