There is someone who contaminates my self-worth, infecting it like HIV.
Tearing me apart, to her, is as easy as ripping a sheet of paper in two.
First, she pops like bubbles times in my memory where I felt pretty.
I dare not remember intimate moments with my husband.
I cringe at the thought that what she is showing me now, he saw.
I am bare and vulnerable, and she takes advantage.
She lectures me “You forgot again, didn’t you?”
Exposing me with her eyes, she marks each flaw wrong like an English teacher with a red pen,
Thighs that are bumpy…X,
two toned and hideous…XX,
A stomach that sags…XXX,
“Don’t bend”, she grunts, “it makes it worse”…
I am bullied to listen, as she scrutinizes my blemishes’ bad grammar…
Stretch marks, like shattered glass on pristine porcelain,
If it were a coffee cup or vase, it would surely be thrown out with the garbage,
But it can’t because it is stuck, a part of me.
Examining me from head to toe, she grades me a big fat “F”.
I hang my head, looking no longer into that mirror where she stands.
I take my marked up paper of a body and go back to the back of the class,
I take a solemn oath never to raise my hand again.