A REFLECTION OF ME

she stares at her reflection, she sees her mother's eyes

The image is distorted, she can't make out her face

In a whirlwind of emotion she performs a pirouette

she tries to get her balance, she needs to get a grip

three generations are crammed into the space

And all the generations can fit into her face

She hears a distant voice

it permeates her brain

she can't help but listen

it's driving her insane

Does size really matter

Should everyone be the same?

"Diet, diet, diet, just look at the state you're in"

"Diet, diet, diet, to be pretty you must be thin".

are the voices getting it right, does she look a mess

could she make a circus tent out of her smallest dress

I am not fat
I am shapely, comely
buxom, well endowed
and I am me