Picture Perfect

You look at me
through the looking glass,
never good enough
to admit it's really me.
Stretch marks mark the beginning
the long trail I've wasted
down my hips and thighs...
I still don't fit a three.

Nothing but skin between my jeans
and my pelvic bone
My hips will always be a size five.
My waist is still to large - I still look
like I have a stomach
but eating only once a day
is just as unhealthy
as never eating...
If I arch backwards
you can see my bones...
I wish my waist was that thin
all the time.

My legs still touch
when I walk...
I suffocate them in jeans
to look thinner than they are
and make the triangle stand out
so that I can see through myself.

But it's not enough,
Eat well, work out...
an hour walk and a work out ever day
do more for my alertness
than for my body.
My jeans are still too tight.
But I can hide my stomach by wearing
a seven
and letting the jeans curve with me
instead of making thier
own lumps in my skin.
Seven is the new three...

My hips get stuck
in the car, I have to slide
in, like I slide out.
My shoulders are so broad,
my ribcage is to wide...
but at least it shows off what I have.

A picture, silouette and stretch,
I'm a model... but I can't stretch
in real life.
I might have the hourglass figure,
but I still don't have the height to make it
Perfect.
Permanently short
I can only look up to those
I'll never be.
Perfect shape on a smaller
scale.

My heart weighs
more than I do.