No choice

There is so much pressure to be beautiful. To be beautiful means to have beautiful skin. To look flawless. To look healthy. What if you were covered in scars? What if you had chicken skin on your arm? What if you always felt the need to cover up and camouflage your body? When you look better covered up than exposed…shouldn’t it be the other way around? What if you were so ashamed of how your body looked you wore sweaters in the summer time? Picture a hot sunny day, the sun rays are beating down on you and you had to keep yourself covered. You looked around and saw so many girls in tank tops or halter tops. It saddened me. It made me depressed. I wanted to go sleeveless, I wanted to show off my skin, I wanted to be cool and not sweating like a stuffed pig. But no. The stares would be unbearable. The looks of disgust, the frowns were something I could not handle. I stayed covered up. Covered in long sleeves. Long hot sleeves. Hiding myself from snarls, stares and disgust. I keep my arm protected. I took pictures on my right side never on my left. I hid my arm from everybody and everything. Not by choice. Because I had to!