I love to feel so squeaky clean and smelling like a field of flowers,

But I hate having to force my body to rise out of its coffin to get into the shower.

I love to have long and luscious hair, so soft and fluffy that strangers ask to touch it,

But I hate running combs and brushes through it feeling like it’s going to rip off my scalp.

I love to have shiny white teeth that sparkle in the sunlight,

But I hate picking up each leg to walk to the sink and the metallic taste of bleeding gums.

I love to have the clearest and softest skin that glows bright in the right lighting,

But I hate rubbing fifty different creams, all promising cleansing only to eat away at my skin.

I love to choose out what cute shirt goes with which warm and comfortable jacket,

But I hate spending the little energy I have picking up the rejected outfits off the floor after.

I love to express myself and my individuality in all ways, feminine and masculine alike,

But I hate all the pairs of judgemental eyes staring down at me.

I love being observant to all of life’s beauty that lies in the small things,

But I hate that my eyes are the most judgemental.

Beauty is a pain.