It’s so sad to see
woman back home
so obsessed to be
the perfect clone
of what one company tells you you should look like…

Got to be taller
got to be thinner
make this larger
make this smaller
and only this one way
is the way to stay
“young, sexy, beautiful”
It’s what the machine spits out
and these thirsty people take in
and it’s one pathetic cycle
as it spins and they win

But the real beauty? 

It lies in the faces
the hidden spaces
that barely anyone seeks,
Of the young girls, riding bikes, three all stacked on one, heading down the muddy, dirty paths. In their smiles, so bare and honest as they sit beside the gutters and all share one small plate of food.
It’s hiding under the women’s down turned heads, in their thankful, grateful eyes as they watch their babies sleep so peacefully in their arms as rain pours down, flooding their streets and tiny shack homes.
It’s in the balance of the old women, carrying massive pots, heavy and round, so gracefully poised and at ease, on top of their heads and walking miles and miles to bring food to their families.

That’s where the beauty lies
not in these petty cries
of dieting, body image obsessed
girls who are so mislead

I would rather watch that old woman walk down the “oh so praised” runway, anyway… 

Written December 10th 2014