When I was younger, my parents would say things like, "Laura, stop eating so much" or "No more food for you."

My great grandma would tell me things like, "You'll never find a husband looking like that" or "Laura, you need to diet."

I was ten years old.

No girl should grow up and be told she needs to diet...or to worry about male opinions for her body for marriage. The other day, my mother hugged me so tight and told me, "You lost so much weight! You look so beautiful!"

I might look beautiful now to her, but I always was. Always. Always. Always. We all do. Because we look like ourselves.

And for that, I wrote this poem.

On Both Sides—and Either

Her belly stuck out of her jeans

And her jeans stuck out of her boots

Her boots weren't laced

Yet in every way traced

With the muddy grass, deep in the woods

Her belly stuck out of her skirt

And her skirt was too short for their taste

But she didn't care

She flipped her long hair

No, she couldn't dare

Hate the skirt that showed off her legs

Her belly stuck out of her dress

And her dress had danced in the wind

She sashayed and shook

Like a trembling brook

Like a loose-hanging hook

She made everyone look

At her lips, at her body, her skin

Her belly stuck out in the mirror

And she poked her tongue out at the picture

Pictures that clogged every drain in her mind

Pictures that dodged every train and design

Led to voices that rendered her speechless and blind

To the beauty that proved she was one-of-a-kind

One-of-a-kind, on both sides— and either

Yes, her belly stuck out, and her tongue was so warm

And her eyes were so sweet, like two candy-corns

And her hands were so light— like vanilla rainstorms

—Storms that would lead her to where her loose boots

—Storms that would lead her to pull down her hood

­—And know deep inside that the sun's in her heart

—And know deep inside that she's beauty, an art

In the wetness, she glowed, she deformed

She loves the deep grass— the wind, and the mirror

And her legs, oh so long, they can swing high and hither

Hither, so strong, in her heat

She can run, smiling along, as she goes and gets something to eat