Survived with Beauty

Often uncomfortable in my own skin,

looking into the mirror of society

with a reflection of disgust;

I am imperfect

My body has curves where there shouldn’t be

and my face is spotted with stubborn blemishes;

I’ll paint over them with a brush,

hide behind a mask of concealer and cover-up,

and repeat to myself every day

that I am beautiful;

I am beautiful.

But tomorrow,

if I have a daughter,

I swear to God

I’m gonna make sure she knows

she’s beautiful

because she was made in His essence.

I’m gonna make sure she knows

that she doesn’t have to be

some airbrushed stick-skinny big-breasted blonde-haired blue-eyed Barbie,

because Barbie is a girl who has an eating disorder

and can’t walk upright;

Because unlike Barbie whose life’s in plastic, she was made from this earth,

and she is beautiful.

So for her, today,

I will embrace my curves

and I will wear my stubborn blemishes

like trophy scars

of the war

I survived with beauty.