I think this will be my last bad poetry Friday, for a while at least. I’ve pained you enough.

For my last entry, I’ve chosen a relatively recent poem, and quite personal. It’s a bit silly, and probably more than you want to know. And it’s a bit exaggerated for effect—I really don’t see myself this way (all the time); I have good days and bad days like anyone else. But body image is such an essential part of how women are taught to view themselves that I just had to address it. I deliberately picked at all my most vulnerable flaws, so I’m a bit hesitant to post it… but this website is ignored enough. 🙂 And honesty, right?

Anyway, here you go:

Me.  by J. Sevick

My chubby thighs, my cellulite

My brows unplucked, my teeth aren’t white

My legs unshaved, my hairy chin

My stomach rolls unless sucked in

My bumpy nose, my greasy hair

My dimpled ass, my skin too fair

My scalp has flakes, my ears stick out

My lips are full just when I pout

My reddened skin, that stubborn zit

The ugly mole in my armpit

Uneven breasts, and not that great

The hairy toes I love to hate

Everything I ever saw

In the mirror, every flaw

And yet somehow, I still see me

The tilted smile, the jilted glee

The memories, the thoughts inside

Why can’t I be, why should I hide?

My body lives, that’s all it’s for

The way it looks is such a chore

And not a bit my interest

When that’s compared to all the rest

My silly laugh, the way I think

I kind of like that I don’t drink

My love for books, my open mind

I always care, try to be kind

My problems solved, my eye for art

My trivia skills, my bleeding heart

There’s so much more than you can see

And even if it’s only me

I’m going to love what I find there

Beyond my hips, my skin, my hair.