i painted my nails cinnamon red,
but they chipped by the
end of the day.
mascara clumps my invisible
lashes together, and leaves
unreadable marks on my eyelids.
my hair frizzes and poofs
and is immune to heat,
so instead, my cheeks get
pink and sweaty.
why is it that whenever I try
to look good, i feel
like I'm playing dress up?
pretending to be a princess,
a mermaid, pretty.
like I never grew up, like
I'm already too old to be
putting on short dresses
and throwing blush
on frownlined cheeks.
I cannot even fathom
the idea of being born
beautiful,
but oh, how the other
girls live so effortlessly.
they have no eyebags
even though they must get
up earlier than the sun
to have such perfect hair.
no wrinkles in their
shirts or skin.
the perfect outfits.
the perfect personality.
the perfect mix of sharpness
and gentleness that can only
come from the perfect girl.
perfect, perfect, perfect.
something I reach for
like a kid does the end of
a rainbow.
maybe gold dust will suit my
eyelids more.
maybe blonde hair
would lighten up my
skin.
maybe eating less
would make someone
want to grab my waist,
hold my hand,
tell me that I
deserve to be loved.
maybe I should
repaint my nails.
-V
