Im flawed and Im sure of it now. I don’t say it to make you feel sorry for me. I don’t say it to make you look for physical scars or secrets I have kept from you. If you knew me, you would know I wear my secrets like cheap costume jewellery bought second hand.
Im flawed. I don’ t need to say how. Maybe I don’t even know really. Maybe the face I look at in the mirror everyday is simply an image imagined thru the veil of social pressure. Maybe the ‘skinny’ mirror has finally swallowed me whole and left me thinking Im still beautiful.
Im flawed. I had my teeth fixed to try and fix it and Im grateful! For now I have a bright smile with friendly teeth. Straight or not they are mine to rub my tongue over, instruments to begin digestion of food made with love.
Im flawed. I have curves and get called matronly. I have been hurt by that before... robust, curvaceous, buxom, voluptuous... I prefer warm, soft and womanly, words that don’t describe whats my outside, but words that matter when encircled in the embrace of an opinion that matters.
Im flawed. I except that. Not for the sake of you or anyone else. I except that for the me that gets buried under my own hurtful words screaming myself into silence. I except that for the me that try’s too hard to hate what I must present, physically to the world. I except that for the people in my life I hold so dear, who’s physicality has absolutely no bearing on what I think of them.
Im flawed. Im passionate. Im hopeful. Im strong. Im healthy. Im happy. Im flawed.