beautiful?

What will it take to convince you? Why are you absolutely convinced, when all the true evidence points so clearly to the contrary?

Blame the culture? But you're to blame for buying into it so much that you have nothing left to spend. Everywhere you go, you feel the passers-by looking, evaluating, judging. Could they be thinking the same thing you are: how does she compare?

You project your own obsession on to everyone else, assuming that they're looking as closely as you are. Stop it already. Tear out all those magazine covers seered into your brain. Turn off the low-cut, low-risers on the tube, trying to dance into your mind. You say you love me, and I know you do, so why do you give your heart to them every day?

In fifty years, all those cover-smiling, cleavage-exposing, six-sizes-less-than healthy brats will be wishing they're as beautiful as you are. Because by then, they'll see what I know now: the beauty in you is infinitely more. I just wish you'd see that.