She’s down sometimes.
She’s self-conscious.
Always wondering if everyone is staring at her.
She sucks in her tummy.
Trying to camouflage the lovely mound that is her lower belly.
Passing by the opaque windows of a building, she gazes at herself.
Did I add weight?
Do I look good in these clothes?
She sighs, sucks in her tummy.
If only she had a flat belly.
The curves are elegant but the tummy!
If only she had a slim face.
The eyes are lovely but the cheeks!
She stares at her face again and sighs.
There’s always a little something that nags at her.
It stands between her and the door.
The entrance to the room called happiness.
This little something, crushing her self-esteem.
It’s a grain of sand hurting her.
It irritates, the delicate flesh of her oyster heart.
Little does she know a pearl is developing within her.