I don’t have a thigh gap – poem 

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I don’t have a thigh gap

My legs join at the top
I’ve no idea if my mons 
Is fashionable or not. 
My breast are too small 
To fit into a bra
My stomach has bloated 
To the size of a car
There’s lines on my face
But worse there is hair 
It seems to want to grow everywhere 
No creams, cleansers or lotions 
Applied to my skin can stop it
From giving up and caving in
I have to accept that it
Comes to us all
Not all Cinderellas can go to the ball
The airbrush they use may as well be a gun 
Pointing at women and saying
‘Hey! You look wrong’
So maybe it’s time we said 
‘Fuck you’ to that crap
I’ll grow old in my own way 
So go swivel on that. 
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