Beautiful Sacrifice

I watch the colorful dust break way as my soft brush dabs a new pallet of color,

the bristles caressing the beautiful powder designed to paint my fair skin.

I gently paint my translucent lids to dazzle the green iris’ that lie beneath.

I reach for the violet pencil to outline my souls windows, knowing the accent brings

more beauty to my features. Next I dab some blush to bring life back to my cheeks;

taken away by the foundation layered underneath. A compound of minerals designed to cover my flaws, yet taking my true colors with it. I smell the steam rising from my head as I burn my hair to make it straight, much prettier than the natural waves I once embraced. My painted head unfitting for the ragged clothes I slept in, so I reach into my closet to find something I can fit in. An hour passes and I’m still undressed, nothing is right, my body is a mess. I starve myself for the world’s affection, hoping tight abs will better my reflection. A few skipped meals and stomach pains, are just a few

sacrifices I have made. Trading my life for that of pain, all in pursuit of something so

vain. Hospital visits and mood swings, headaches and stomach pangs, all worth it if it eliminates my shame. Ashamed of feeling less than others, convinced my picture is

all that matters. I’d give it all to hear them say, “You look beautiful today.” But in this moment, weeping in a pile of clothes, my tears streaking the painting I just made hold, I hear a voice, a whisper within, telling me I'm better than this facade I live in. I grab a cloth and smear my face and start scrubbing as if the paint has erased my real face. I gather myself, throw back my hair, and stood up proud in front of a mirror. I walk to

the kitchen and find something wonderful to taste, now realizing these sacrifices were all a waste. A picture can’t capture a soul’s essence, and society knows how we want acceptance. Playing us all by pointing out our flaws, designed to break every little girls fate by making them hate themselves. Manipulated by media, celebrities, and

schools, they want our children to look like fools. Giving up truth for worldly beauty

never telling us there is a God that loves me. Here I am, now a grown woman, just now realizing I am designed by God’s view of beauty. Maybe I want society to shun me,

if it means I can reflect his artistry.