I thought I was ready,
This time at least.
I felt like ten pounds lighter today,
So after days I turned on the lights above my dressing mirror and looked at my reflection.
“Love handles” you call them?
I saw bags of fat!
Curvy? No.
Just fat.

Hair on my belly which was supposed to be smooth.
Stretch marks all across my thighs.
My face ridden with acne marks.
My nose a little deviated, my teeth a little crooked.
Hair on my head getting thinner by the day and then I looked at my wrist.
My wrists covered with healed and healing scars.
I thought I was ready.
I wasn’t. Not yet.
I don’t think I ever will be.

You tell me that I am pretty,
I don’t know why you say so?
I don’t even know why you’re with me.
You’re better than the mirror.
You tell me what I want to see.
But how do I know?
If the truth is what I see,

What good is the flattery?
My eyes hurt now.
Looking at myself.
Looking at what you don’t see.
I turn the lights off again,
And I am back in the bed with you,
To feel tiny.
Your hands make my waist seem smaller.
You make me feel better.
So, I’ll lie here.
Looking at myself through your eyes, until,
Until I am ready.
If I am ever ready.

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