Ugly

Standard

He told me I wasn’t pretty

Said my body lacked the grace

And I piteously believed him

And camouflaged my face

In cakes of powder

To hide my ugliness.

He said my body lacked grace

And I wasn’t

Like the pretty conventional models

Dolled up on magazines

And I piteously believed him.

I played feverishly with layers of clothes

Sometimes hiding my curves

In disgust, and sometimes

Revealing, in hope for comforting words

Until one day, I

Stopped by

To take a look in the mirror

And my eyes pierced through my soul

Smiling back at me

And I

I found, that I was uncorrupted

Beauty at her best

It was,

Only him that was ugly.

How often we’re made to believe that we aren’t enough. That we need to look like everyone else, wear what the latest is in fashion, copy the celebrities in order to look the part. We’re body-shamed, made to feel unloved by harsh, unsecured voices. But we can choose to ignore them. We can choose to create an identity that exists beyond the shells of this harsh society.

Here “him” doesn’t only reflect a selfish boyfriend. This poem is yours and you can choose to play with the identities. It could be a guy body-shamed by his girlfriend, it could be the woman’s mind deterring the woman to be her best self, it would be the harsh society where beauty is equated to corporate profits and false ideals laid down by clever & misleading marketing. The ‘Voice’ could be of anyone. But it’s your choice whether you let it affect you.

© 2016 Mind Pickles

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