you know that secret little bit that you don’t tell everyone 'cos they'd think you're a braggart, where you look in the mirror and think yeah, that's ok?
i remember...
a friend (remember george?) who used to ponce about in front of the mirror... "see, if I put a bit of meat on, and squish these (hoiks boobs) up like this, i reckon i look a bit of alright!"
you wandered around naked in my flat, marvelling at how unselfconscious you felt when you were with me.
you danced excitedly in your new dress, hugging its folds around your curves.
you giggled and showed off new underwear while we were stopped at the lights.
you stood on my balcony and sang silly ditties to me in your underwear.
you agreed with me when i said you were pretty.
when i dig underneath, i ... don’t have it. that bit. oh, i have it about work things; i'm great at my job. i'm a excellent writer (if i pull my finger out), i'm an even better COS. i can juggle stuff and deal with people. i can even say i'm good at all that with some pride, without cringing too much. there's not even a smidge of me that can do the same about how i look. just ugh, all the time. i can get by if i don’t look in mirrors. in fact...there’s not really very much of me as a person that i happily look at and think yep, that’s me, and that’s a bit of alright. i am sure there used be some.
is not very healthy. needs to be changed.