Like a Beggar

I was never good at picking out clothes,
Or following trends.
I was never exactly a fashionista.
I liked wearing whatever made me feel comfortable,
And whatever colors I liked.
I liked wearing long clothes as well.
I don’t like wearing makeup.
My parents always told me that I looked like a “beggar.”

“You’ll end up a spinster,
Because no one will ever look at you.”
“I don’t want you to come with me.
You have bad taste.”
“Your clothes look better on other people.”
“You look really bad,”
They’d tell me when I dressed up for an outing,
Or a special occasion.

I used to get really upset.
They’d say they were joking
And that I shouldn’t get upset,
But these jokes were based on reality.
No one ever stopped to think,
That it’s my right,
And freedom of choice,
To not show too much of myself,
And be girly,
And perfect.

I lost all confidence in myself because of their words.
I was always anxious about how I looked,
And about my features,
And body,
Because I saw that I was ugly.
Things kept getting worse,
But I stopped listening to them.
I would look at myself in the mirror,
And think that I was beautiful,
And pretty.
Unlike back then,
When no one used to tell me that.

Now, after some self-reflection,
My confidence has increased.
I do whatever I want now,
And any changes I make,
Are ones I want to make,
I reject any and all opinions,
That tell me what I need to do,
Just to be able to keep up with others.

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