No matter how many magazines try to "branch out" by showing plus-sized models, or how many people start hashtag campaigns, or post make-up-less selfies, there are always insecurities that refuse to unlatch themselves from your heart.

+Size

would you believe me if I told you that scars can come

and go and grow

and shrink like stretch marks on an outer thigh or would I have to show you

peel back my leggings trace the faded weak spots

the moments I gave in

what counsel could you give

nothing can shield a sufferer from his own deeds

we know we are wilting we know

we are growing

when I close my eyes I see forks and dried fruit

I see the dollars spent I see the metphormin running low

somewhere back inside my mind is little seven year old me trying very hard not to smush her upper arms against her body

what can you tell that little girl

what would you say, what advice do you give, what statistic does she become?

there is nothing new to scold her with

she has already learnt these ways

and they are ingrained, branded onto her very skin

more permanent than any scar--stretch mark--moment of giving in