The mannequins are misogynists

Pass me a coat hanger
so I can try it on for size
and hope the clothes slip off my curves
in pro-anorexic style

All the mannequins are misogynists
coat hangers masquerading as women
telling me what I should like
in subliminary whispers
never mind that I’m not built like a skeleton
dieting my ass off in the vain hopes
that I can one day be a model for a biology class
and kill the next generation
with my suicidal aspirations

I’m so painfully aware
that I’m not a boutique buyer
that my curves don’t fit the contours of fabric
not made for hips like mine
and there’s nothing quite as damaging
as thin envy
that destroys all my self-love
in the mirror

Because the good days are the ones
where I don’t cringe at my reflection
wishing my body would conform
to a shape that only anorexia could love

All the mannequins are misogynists
and I don’t need to look far
to where I don’t fit
when every fashion magazine
dictates that reality
in the  glorious contradiction
of love yourself…
but look like this

In a world where thin is in
I’m not at the height of beauty
I’m not the girl other people look twice at
for all the “right” reasons

So, if I can’t be the prettiest girl in the room
at least allow me to be the weirdest
because I half fear that it’s better to be noticed
for all the wrong reasons
than not to be noticed at all

All the mannequins are misogynists
and I’m not a skinny girl

© Indie Adams 2013