Where Am I Beneath All This Mascara

I thought I would lighten it up today. It's Friday, the weather is above freezing, and the sun is shining! I wrote this poem a few months back, and revision is still in the works. As a feminist, body image talk is everywhere. The unrealistic standard of beauty we see everyday through media is not the reality of real women with real bodies. Women spend billions of dollars on beauty products every year. We're taking the bait and trying to cure our inadequacies with chemicals and dyes. Have you ever looked at what's left behind after you take off your make up? A swirl of unnatural colors and angry black lines from mascara rings and eye liner. No wonder we worry about aging, this shit can't be good for you.

I once read an article about a woman who made a one year no mirrors pledge. For an entire year she did not look at her reflection, wear make up, or style her hair. She did a self-esteem and body image assessment before and after her unofficial case study. The findings were very positive. If she can't see her reflection she can't obsess over it. I'm not saying that I'm going to ban mirrors in my house, but being less critical of yourself may be the ticket to accepting who you are. I'll never be a size 0, I will never have a Marilyn figure, but accepting myself as the way I am provides just one less stress in my day to day life. I'll take that!

Where Am I beneath All This Mascara by Emily

I am sucked in

Pushed up

And squeezed

Into a form foreign to my body

Coaxing my square form into an

 HouR

     G

  LasS

  

   A

PeaR

 A top-HeavY

      TrianG

          LE

I foil my hair

Until each strand is parched

I empty my money into products

As if Shea Butter can cure cancer

And my brutalized tresses

Are back-combed

Into frizzy surrender

I pinch my eyelids in metal cages

So I can appear flirty and wanting

I fear glasses and poke my irises everyday

To avoid the label of geek

The sexy librarian look is so 1994

I waste money from every miniscule paycheck

To become the better looking me

But when it comes to staring down the mirror

Can any amount of cash make me

Appreciate what I see?