The price of beauty is tough
Or at least, it is according to Momma
She'd said this while she brushed my hair,
Using it as an excuse to yank and pull
She'd said this when I tripped on my dress
That is, after beating me for ruining it
She'd said this when I couldn't eat no more
Because my skinny jeans didn't fit
She'd said this all my life,
Until I left and had my own house
My own family
Now I have my own little girl,
Who trips on her dresses and has frizzy hair.
My little girl smiles up at me
With her gorgeous brown eyes
And you know what I tell her?
Nothing.
I just hug her and smile,
Fixing her dress and trying to be gentle
The price of beauty is tough,
But my little girl isn't paying.
At least, not unless she wants to
Sorry, Momma.
Or at least, it is according to Momma
She'd said this while she brushed my hair,
Using it as an excuse to yank and pull
She'd said this when I tripped on my dress
That is, after beating me for ruining it
She'd said this when I couldn't eat no more
Because my skinny jeans didn't fit
She'd said this all my life,
Until I left and had my own house
My own family
Now I have my own little girl,
Who trips on her dresses and has frizzy hair.
My little girl smiles up at me
With her gorgeous brown eyes
And you know what I tell her?
Nothing.
I just hug her and smile,
Fixing her dress and trying to be gentle
The price of beauty is tough,
But my little girl isn't paying.
At least, not unless she wants to
Sorry, Momma.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
LexusMarie
crux1
wseeingstars99
trblue
dejavoo13579
Join the Discussion
This article has 13 comments. Post your own!