I wanted to be sexy. Sexy was small, thin, petite. So I stopped eating. Beautiful was long hair, past the shoulders, down the back. So I grew my hair longer. Sexy was more more skin, shorter and tighter clothes. So I wore them short and tight. Beautiful was giving in and giving it up, pleasing and giving it my all. So I pleased and gave in. I didn’t want to be cute or sweet or pretty; I wanted to be like all the other girls, the ones they always looked at, the standards I’d always compared myself to. I didn’t know what sexy was, but I wanted to be anyone’s definition of it, but it never quite fit me. But maybe it’ll only come about when I stop trying to adapt to meanings and interpretations and definitions that aren’t meant for me.

1:41 pm  •  21 February 2012  •  18 notes