Normal.
What is normal?
In our society, “normal” is
iPhones and sneakers and McDonalds and skyscrapers and cars and selfies and elevators

Elevators,
So simple.
A part of our everyday life barely worth of acknowledgement
“normal”
But when you really think about it…
Being yo-yoed up and down by the slender finger of a machine in a closet-sized steel box
Now, who wouldn't enjoy that?
But in the end, the reassuring “ding” signals the doors to open and you get out, and go about your daily business
Oblivious
That you were just trapped in a steel box the size of a closet
Even if it just was for a minute or so

And yet…
I am trapped in a steel box of stereotypes, expectations, and judgements
I have been for my a while now

Floor one. Ding. They say that I am already “beautiful”, but when the doors open, I am bombarded with powders and perfumes to make me pretty…er?
Ding. The door opens a couple floors up and I am told that I am a piece of trash because my clothes are “too big”
Ding. The next floor calls me a dirty s***, a w**** if I show one inch “too much” of skin because my epidermis is something that I should be ashamed of
Ding. I am called a cow and told that I need to lose weight because the size of my waist doesn’t meet the measurements of their expectations
Ding. Too skinny they say, go eat a hamburger
Ding. Too muscular, what are you a body-builder?
Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. DING

The steel box is now a cage and I am trapped, an incarcerated animal guilty of breaking society’s rules of…beautiful?
The cage plummets until I have reached the bottom.
Right where I started.
Floor one- Ding.
Because we blame society, but we are society

And maybe the reason that I am trapped in this steel box is because since floor one
I was shown what was beautiful from the royalty of society’s stereotypes
from book illustrations and magazines and lies and lies and lies

So, when did becoming insecure about yourself become “normal”?
When did
Starving yourself
Or desperately trying to gain weight
Or muscle
Or “beauty”
Or criticizing yourself everytime you look in a mirror
and hating your body, yourself
Because you think that you aren’t “good” enough
become something that is acceptable?

Because, if you look around
We are all trapped in our own elevators
Our very own personalized steel closets that have been tailored for our very insecurities
Each one taking us up another level to our own personal hell
Every time we thought that we were finally starting to feel good about ourselves
And it only goes up from there

So
Whether you are big or small
Short or tall
Blonde or brunette or red-haired
With freckles or glasses
Or green eyes or blue
Or have big muscles or not so big ones
Or wear baggy or tight clothing
Many makeup products or none at all
You are perfect.
Because we are all perfectly flawed human beings
And if the new “normal” of beauty is being insecure about yourself,
Then I don’t want any part of it.
Ding.