When I was a girl, I never wore makeup.
Didn’t other much with my hair
I’ve never been a big fan of shoes
I knew better than to chase after boys.
I didn’t have the right figure to buy nice clothes.
But, I had food,
and that was the important thing. Food
was my comfort. Makeup
would just remind me of the clothes
I couldn’t fit into, how scruffy my hair
looked, and how the boys
wouldn’t care anyway. Shoes
simply hurt my feet. Even worse, high heeled shoes
would make me fall over, embarrass myself. Would make me run to food.
I did myself no favours. I’d just get fatter, and the boys
would tease, me, mercilessly. Makeup
just made me feel stupid and awkward. My hair
was too thick to look pretty. I didn’t take care of it. I didn’t have the clothes,
the required je ne sais quoi. The clothes
could create or destroy. The shoes
came as part of that, the hair
fell into place. Food
holds no place in that world. Makeup
might have got me somewhere with the boys,
although I doubt it. Boys
love the naturally slim, the ones who wear the nice clothes,
have the immaculate makeup,
wear the right shoes,
eat miniscule amounts of rabbit food,
and who have bi monthly hair
appointments. So, if I did my hair,
would the boys
love me? If I stopped eating food
would I have the right figure for clothes?
What if I learned how to walk in those shoes?
Or wore that makeup?
Not that and being happy too. Food will always get in the way, clothes
always my aim. My hair’s got better, but boys
still ignore me, and I still don’t wear shoes or makeup
