The Re-iteration of my Body
The magazines show supermodels with
hair so silky smooth, skin so richly tanned, and their bodies
having robust hips with narrow waists. The thoughts
drowned me, overpowered me, and confined me.
I am suffocating in this hysteria as I writhe in mental anguish.
I take my quilted blanket to hide my body, but it only
further accentuates my body, highlighting my hip dips.
Tell me where I went wrong, tell me! The supermodels taunt me,
each word beating! beating! my mind palpitating and the
kamikaze tears drop onto my bare thighs. I sink my nails into
my thighs, where the supermodels are sure to look.