It's so hard to fit.
My manicured nails and hair straightened,
My eyelashes caked and my skinny jeans.
Styles change like a whirlwind.
Sweeping us up as it goes.
Long dresses, bleached jeans, short skirts, jeggings.
Camisols, jean jackets, long shirts, bomber coats.
Flats, high heels, vans, boots.
Straight hair, long curls, pixie cuts, bleach blonde.
Long necklaces, featherlocks, bangles, piercings.
Where am I?
With my ginger frizz,
My tshirt and worn jeans,
My glasses and handmade bracelets.
Where am I?
Reading the fashion magazines,
Looking at size zero beauties,
Trying new diets.
Where am I?
In a whole different world,
An outcast of the gorgeous,
Chasing at their stilletos.
But why?
I am not small. I am strong.
I am not oblivious. I am sensible.
I am not photoshop. I am natural.
I am girl.
I am average.
I am reality.
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