As a child, the mirror was not my friend.
But a reflection of warnings -
Girls who linger too long here are empty vessels,
they said.
Girls who paint their faces, paint over their minds,
they said.
I learned to turn away.
The mirror gathered dust,
I wore my bare face like a badge of honour.
An armour against a world
that measured me,
by what it saw.
As a child, the mirror was her shrine.
A canvas for the salvation she was promised.
Dab the powder, hide your flaws
they said.
Don’t be ugly, be someone worth showing,
they said.
She learned to obey.
The mirror dictated her worth,
Layer by careful layer,
Until her reflection was no longer her own.
An offering to the world
that demanded perfection,
in lieu of acceptance.
And then there were the clothes.
You are too thin for this,
they said.
No fabric will fit, only hang like a question.
they said.
She learned to shrink -
her shoulders drawn inward, her posture small,
She chose cuts that clung close,
And fabrics that framed her neat, to hide her slight.
I was told the opposite -
Your thighs are like pillars
they said.
No dress could glide,
only sit heavy, like a reprimand,
they said.
I learned to disappear -
Beneath the bulk of my own body.
I chose the cuts that concealed, shapes that erased
And folded myself into corners to hide the weight of me.
She believed what they said for years, me too.
When the weight of their words grew too heavy to carry.
something shifted ~
For her, it was in the morning light,
She set the compact down and saw herself shine.
She turned from the seams and the mirror that confined,
She embraced her frame,
and met the face she’d left behind.
For me, twas in the silence of a fitting room,
Reaching for a fit I was told was not mine.
I turned to the mirror and the shape I denied,
I owned my body,
and held the gaze, I’d long let slide.
What once defined us - mirrors, pigments, stitches, and seams,
Became choices we reclaimed, no longer our binds.
Hers became a story of breaking free,
And mine, of becoming.
And in this, there is beauty.
A quiet rhythm of give and take.
of truths exchanged like hand-me-downs
fitted to new bodies,
carried with new meanings.
What one of us leaves behind,
another learns to embrace.
Through patterns and plainness,
through layers and lightness,
through mirrors and masks,
through breaking and becoming.
The road stretches far,
we carry these truths, stitched to fit,
still walking each other home.
Love,
Charvee
#enrouteangels #prosepoetry #poems #soulfulwords #truths #handmedowns #bodyshaming #bodyimage #expectations #society #societal #wordsthatheal #wordsofwisdom
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