I crave it.
Absolute, mad, perfection.

I am 110 pounds.
5 foot 7.
I look normal.
Not tall enough.
Not skinny enough.
No pretty enough.

Why?
It’s not fair. Not my fault.
Impossible to change.
The way I was born.
I believe
I can change the way I am now.

My nose, too small.
I fix it.
Make it straighter
Heighten it
To absolute, complete,
Perfection

I hate my thighs.
Too, too, fat
When I sit down.
I go back,
To that shiny glass hospital,
I leave, slimmer and lighter.
I feel a little better.
A little.

My chin
A little too round
I am 14 years old
This can’t be baby fat, can it?
I cry in the mirror
I’ll never be beautiful
My parents take pity,
When they see the sleeping pills I take,
To try,
Try, to sleep.

I shave it,
My bone
It hurts
So, so much.
The pain.
But I smile.
Almost there.
Almost perfect.

I look in the mirror.
I wish,
I wish,
My cheekbones,
They were higher.
I beat myself with a hammer
Tapping, to raise the height.
Nothing,
Only bruises.
One look.
I am again sent to the shiny glass building
I smile.

Soon, I will be perfect
The image of beauty
I ignore the warnings
What’s a tiny risk
For my dream?

I am dressed in a gown
Ready for my new,
Cheekbones
Ready for the implants

I close my eyes,
As I am anesthetized
I close my eyes,
Forever.

Perfect.