Last night I found a bunch of journals -- maybe all of my journals -- from when I was in college, and decided to look through them. I was a talented
20-year old, with all of the same hang-ups I have today but with 95% less responsibility.
In a journal from the end of 1988, I found a couple of poems I think are worth sharing here. There were written with a pink pen, so I've tried to match it here.Self-loveWhen I look in the mirrornowI know I'll never match the Barbie doll &height-weight chartimage of my former fantasy lifebecause what I amis beautifulwhat I amis.I see the well rounded body ofa 20 year old productof years of wantingto besomeoneelse. And consideringI'm still me,there isn't really anythingto indicate that thisbody is not aperfectly wonderful bodythat houses a quitecapable andeccentric mind.This short and wide selfthat I thought was a lowly shrubrather than a gracefultreeis actually not lowly butmagnificentin it's shrubbinesswith bushy hair, quite healthyand strong branchessturdy limbs and aquite handsome trunka tree not dwarfedfor it was never meant to be awillowor asycamorebut aflowering jade orpink petaled hawthorne.
(this next one doesn't have a title)I wish upon a frog prince and a wishbone and thousands of birthday candles that I were a desirable fairy princesswith flowing hair some color other than mine and clear skin and a lithe, slender form and no perceptible imperfections so contradictory to my present state of imperfection
After which, I've written this, in huge pink letters:ANGRY ! I AMANGRY!!!