My girlhood was spattered like blood with girls hating each
other for being prettier and fighting over a boy who
didn’t make any effort for one or the other, character
assassinating each other by calling someone well liked a
wh.ore,
a s.lut,
a b.itch
and relishing in the fall of female celebrities from their
‘pedestals’.
My girlhood was a war against my body until it looked just like
the girls in the magazine, a war in which I attacked myself
with weapons like wax, razors, creams until every part of me
looked like it belonged to someone else.
My girlhood was made of wilting dreams and innocence lost never
to be replaced with anything but sad understandings about
womanhood.
