I'm going to be honest with you right now...

I hate the way I look.

There have rarely been times where I've looked in the mirror and been happy with the person staring back at me. I've struggled with my body image since I was ten years old. Ever since someone found it within them to point me out of the crowd and negatively comment on my appearance. It is one-hundred percent true when they say words hurt, because those words have stuck with my for well over half my life now.

I've always been very critical of the way I look. But I made sure to silently deal with the pain by hiding how I felt and smiling through the comments people say. Telling me how nice I look or that they wish they looked like me. It hasn't occurred to me until recently though that I can't hide this anymore, mainly because my body physically can't.

I'm not being dramatic when I say my body is the worst it has ever looked and I'm not ashamed to admit it because it's my fault. I'm the one who let stress take over me. I'm the one who let my anxiety once again control me. And I'm the one who chose to skip meals because I found other obligations more important to my well-being.

So, I wrote this poem to remind myself that I will never get to this low point again. This poem is for me and anyone else battling with their body image, to look back on and see that they're not alone in this. I know I have a long road ahead of me to get to where I want to be, but nothing will stop me from achieving it.

My Worst Critic

I want you to look at me

no, really look at me.

not a glance.

Tell me, what do you see?

What's the first thing

you notice on me?

Is it my sparkly brown eyes

with the freckle in my left one?

My medium-length hair

that perfectly shapes my face,

as it falls on both sides.

My nose with a slight bump

that people say is cute.

My small, pink lips

slightly parted to form a smile.

Is that what you see?

Tell me, please.

Because I think you have it wrong.

That's not the same girl I see,

looking back at me in the mirror.

The mirror, a once cherished friend

who delivered me compliments

has now turned against me,

stabbing me in the back,

a glass shard digging deep.

Into a back once strong and powerful

is now weak and showing bones.

A party I never knew of

or would ever RSVP.

But you see, that's not the only time

you've betrayed me, body.

Let's have a go at it then, shall we?

Where should I begin?

Oh yes, how about this.

My ribs looked better when they didn't show.

I trace my fingers along them,

piano keys but no sound.

Should I take my final bow?

Or how about this?

My shoulders don't like

the red mark they receive.

After tossing and turning all night,

finding a comfortable spot to sleep

that doesn't hurt.

Or, how could I forget you

my lovely hips.

Your bones stick out more

than the corner of a table.

My collarbone,

darling

you're like the necklace

I never wanted.

If only there was a way

I could return you.

Dear spine do me a favor

and try not to be so obvious.

You make it hard enough

to sit up and wear tight shirts

without people lining up

to count each bump.

Who am I kidding,

they could see me from a mile away

carry on.

Arms, you're not so bad,

it's the best that you can do.

Just stop going numb,

I can't afford to loose you too.

And legs, I must say,

you make me happier each day.

I thought there would never come a time

I would cry when I felt you touch, thighs.

It took almost a decade

to feel that friction, lets never look back.

Now, I'll ask you one more time

what is it that you see?

And if you say it's a girl

whose body you wish you had.

Or a girl who you would ask

if she's ever considered modeling.

Or a girl who doesn't know

how good she has it.

Then you're wrong.

Because you're not seeing

what I'm seeing.

Do you want to know what I see?

I see a girl with tired brown eyes,

slowly losing their spark.

A girl with medium-length hair

that covers her sunken-in face.

A girl whose silently contemplated

plastic surgery to fix her ugly nose.

A girl whose lips are bloody, dried,

and peeling off dead skin.

A girl whose fighting a battle

but coming up short.

Can you see it now?

It's okay though.

But fear not,

this girls battle is not done.

It has just begun.