It’s not about beauty,
It’s not about size,
It’s not about winning
The pageant prize.

It’s not about stomachs
Or thighs, or hips
It’s not about the fear
Of potato chips.

No, it’s the monster that came
To torture me,
Saying how I should look,
And how I should be.

It’s about telling yourself
Over and over again
That you aren’t very good
Unless you are thin.

It’s about feeling that you
Don’t deserve the respect
To be part of this world,
To stand tall and erect.

It’s taking the scissors
And cutting away
Your friends and your family
Though you want them to stay.

The farther I get,
The clearer I see,
That I’m crazy to let it
Conquer me.

But I’ll take it with me,
Just so I can know,
That hard times come,
But hard times go.