I’ve been doing some housework and baking today, now I’m sitting here with Sammie watching Hell’s Kitchen. I had a dream once of going to culinary school. You see, I love to bake. I never really enjoyed cooking savoury things though, I can make a really good Twice Baked Potato Casserole that I learned to make while in a culinary course at DACC back in the early 00’s. But other than that? You don’t want me making you dinner. Baking cookies, brownies and cupcakes is what I love to do. It’s my happy place, when I’m stressed. And right now, I’ve felt a lot of stress. With the way things have been going in the world right now, we can all use some escapism sometimes. I’ve been thinking a lot about a poem I wrote back when I first started this site, and I wanted to revisit it. I’ve been thinking about the way I’ve started to view myself, my face, my body.. and I’m quite sad that I used to rely on a man’s opinion of myself to feel good about myself. I don’t need someone’s approval of how I look to think I’m beautiful… I should feel beautiful because that’s what I am, right? (That sounded too cocky, I don’t want to delete it though.) This poem didn’t have a title, and I’ve never thought about naming it ever…but here it is.

He calls me beautiful.
Says, effortless.
As if I grew up this way.
I shake my head, hiding my blushing cheeks.
It’s not that I don’t want to believe him, I doubt he would lie to me.

But, what I fear he will never understand is the years in which I have spent trying to dig my way out of my own skin.

All the late nights when my mirror would whisper it’s overplayed mantra of “look at you, there’s nothing here for anyone to see. Why not just destroy the whole thing?” So I tried, for a near decade I tried to pluck my leaf from our family tree.
I felt like a weed in a beautiful rose garden, growing too fast and still not near as perfect.
Now, he shakes his head and says to me, smiling, “Wow. You’re beautiful. So effortlessly beautiful.” Weeds can be mistaken for flowers from afar, that doesn’t mean they’re not beautiful in their own ways, up close.
And I think, I’m starting to believe him.