I have spent too long
Hating what I am
Because of you
You tell me that I am too fat or too thin
That my thighs are to large
That my breasts are too small
You tell me that my lips are not full enough
My nose not pointed enough
My cheekbones not sharp enough
You tell me that there are hairs on my legs
Stretch marks on my stomach
And scars on my wrists
You tell me that these things mean
That I am not beautiful
And for too long
I have believed you
I have believed that I am not beautiful
But no longer
Because I am beautiful.
My body is strong and tough
My thighs built for running
My breasts made to nurture my future children
My lips are u
“Papa!”
The smile that appeared on Ashley’s face would have made it impossible for any onlooker not to realise who the child belonged to, even if she hadn’t been running towards him as fast as her gangly legs would allow. Kneeling down, Ashley scooped his six year-old daughter up into his arms and gave her a tight hug.
“Hi beautiful. Had a good day?”
“Uh-huh!” His daughter wriggled out of his grasp and began to bounce around his feet like a small, over-excited puppy. “We got to play with the princesses at playtime! And we wrote stories! And I got ten out of ten in the spelling test, look!&
“You want us to do what?”
The PE teacher smirked at the look of horror on Ashley’s face. “Dance, Mr. Purdy. This half-term you’re going to be learning classical dancing.”
Ashley turned to look at his friends, who appeared equally terrified.
“But Miss,” Jake said, his tone pleading, “Why would we ever need to know how to dance?”
“Why would you ever need to know how to put a ball through a hoop? Why would you need to know how to jump over a hurdle?” The teacher shrugged. “For fun, Jacob. Not to mention that your wife might want you to be able to dance at your wedding