She walks by, slouched shoulders from which her shoulder blades protrude. Her hair is thin, but long & beautiful, & the breeze seems to play with those locks as if to draw her even more attention. You sit & stare at this beauty as you would any aesthetic pleasure and sink back in your seat. Your tummy folds cutely over your teeny jeans & sickens you. You think of how much less you could eat tomorrow. You wish you could ask the beauty for advice. She sips on her green tea gently & her eyes are empty oceans you wish you knew how to swim in. All those stacks of magazines encourage true, full beauty- bountiful hips & full breasts- but those damn Dove ads just don’t seem to suffice…

 by Chadwick Tyler

You seem to recall those grammar school days; you swam in your t-shirts and jeans as the string bean you were & could scarcely wait for breasts of your very own. Mom was ever beautiful in her evening gown, an hourglass to look forward to. The beanpole you were was never made to fill a woman’s corsets & the stilts on which you stood could never do those gorgeous stilettos justice.

 by Elmotide

So, you waited with bated breath for the boys to see you shine in your fullness.

Moments after it came, the girls told you to please be a string bean again.

Suddenly, the 12 year old you that envied the beautiful 20- some women found herself a 20-some woman envying all the 12 year old girls.