A poem by Abby Odelson
Two years ago.
I looked in the mirror,
Saw my stomach,
Saw it wasn’t the perfect shape,
And I despised it.
So I tied a sweatshirt around my waist,
Tight as I could,
Every day, no matter how warm.
I didn’t want anyone else to see,
To know.
One year ago.
I looked in the mirror,
Saw my stomach,
Still not the perfect shape,
So I picked up a sweatshirt,
Ready to hide,
But stopped.
I let the sweatshirt fall from my hand,
Because who cares who saw?
At least now they can all see me.
Today.
I look in the mirror,
See myself standing there,
Still not the perfect shape.
But I haven’t picked up a sweatshirt,
To hide behind.
Because I know now how I look is nothing,
Compared to what I do.
I’m not perfect,
But at least I’m me.
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