A l'aj qui pense toujours qu'im beau. Je pensent il a frappé sa tête.

Hair...slightly right, maybe enough.
Face? My eyes move on quick, no need to stay there I think.
Neck. I start to get huffy and squint.
Chest...inherited from my family so what can I do?
Travel to my navel I start to cry.
Why must I show so many faults on the outside.
Below that not so neat.
The valley below never been seen.
Scared of the praise or scorn it might receive
To my thighs, oh how I hate the way they look
no clothing to protect.
Take a step back, look at the whole.
Take a towel, wrap it around,
show myself and the world no more.
If not pleasing to me why pleasing to you I doubt.
So scared to show you for you may not like.
To be laughed, shamed for what there is.
Why are most of the flaws, I think, outside of me?

Danita Rambo

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