Modelling...

Is this what you really want?

Strutting down the runway,

And nobody knows what's wrong.

Wearing a gorgeous dress,

And all they care are looks.

 

Holding designer handbags,

Looking gorgeous as always on display.

But hidden behind the makeup,

Is the real me nobody sees.

 

Underneath all the designer labels,

Is the body of a skeleton.

Hidden in the toilets, behind closed doors,

Are the laxatives and pills, we are forced to take.

 

The refusal comes at a price.

Losing your job, or losing bonds.

Losing people who understand you,

Losing everything you built yourself.

 

Weekly weigh ins, weekly counselling,

But nothing is enough.

Nothing can repair the damage,

Everything's already been done.

 

The harshest reality, the harshest environment,

The cruelest words ever heard.

The worst stares and glares,

Judgment staring in your eyes.

 

The inability to take care of your own body,

The forced and faked smiles

Strutting the runway,

The pretence of confidence. 

 

Yet everyone in the real world,

All want to be a part of this,

Staring at our gorgeous bodies,

With envy dripping from every pore of their skin.

 

But seeing girls with anorexia,

Seeing us girls all puke and binge and puke,

Being forced to eat air,

And being harshly treated.

 

Is that what you really want?