representation of the other

To move beyond the imaging screened depictions of fairytale. Life is not always in an image, nor is happiness, sadness, grief and pain. Cross-promotion wonderings derailing the esteemed. Living in this body has proven to be reckless and uncaring at times. Perhaps the uncaring parts of me, truly are caring. To fit the image of mainstream, I sigh out. Offerings of detoxes, creams, supplements, and contracts gravitate towards my temporary. Tall, thinned, lengthy body, pale skinned most of the year, ends of blonde, and eyes of blue. I sometimes find boring. I want to see representation of the other. The skin of mocha, dark trails, hear tongues with differing accents, and witness the beauty that is around.
The schemes of marketing that leaves a society feeling empty or not enough. A billion dollar industry thriving on a reach that does not exist. The photoshopped perfected skinned corsets, paid to sell. Selling to increase the doubt of Self. My inbox has a collection of supplement offers, creams, and detox fixes. Requests to use photos to promote a line to the have nots. Questions of diet and exercise fill the asks and proved to advise.
The skin I am in it is not owed to such offerings. I am made of bones that wishes for curves. On my worst days, I am too thin and unshapely. A lineup of ancestry, thin and unshapely.
I grow tired of seeing the same faces, same bodies, and fixations that don’t truly exist. Perfection does not rest in a magazine or image or even this post. Perfection be not pointed outside of yourself. Recognize this: you are perfect, as you are in your big, beautiful heart and how much you love. Let this be your inner dialogue, love, not what industry speaks of perpetual sheep. Be herded by love, not that of self-hate. Your highest calling is you.