Under Her skin there lives a voice.
It is the voice of the girl she aspires to be.

It tells Her what to eat and when to stop,
It reminds Her when it is time to pluck Her eyebrows,
And It dictates the amount of money she spends on products that will not work.

It teases and belittles Her when the numbers on the scale go up,
and It squeezes tears from her eyes upon looking in the mirror and commanding that she focus on what she wishes wasn't there.

The voice swears It is there to help but she is no fool.
She realizes it when she feels the flaming pit of hunger burning a hole in her stomach,
She realizes it when she feels blood trickling from scabby, picked lips,
That It is there to harm.

So she decides to silence It.

She dresses the way she likes even when It tells her that boys will like her better if she wears other things. 

She cuts her hair as short as she pleases even though It tells Her pretty girls keep it long.

Joke's on It, she doesn't want to be a pretty girl.
That's too subjective for Her.

She comes to the conclusion that she does not owe It her starvation and tears.
In fact she does not owe It anything.

And she knows it will be difficult to silence her but she vows that she will do it.

How, you might ask?

By loving herself.