You can’t tell me I’m any less
Of a person than you are.
Because my thunder thighs
Strike louder than your ideal image.
My beauty is personified in a way,
You can’t understand. Don’t look
Upon me any differently because, my
Tiger stripers expand, expressing my beauty.
You can’t tell me I’m not beautiful

Image of perfection you rely on,
Bend and twist the fate for beautiful individuals.
Fat, is conceived as unbeautiful.
You tell us being who we are is,
Unlovable, loathsome, detestable. But the love I have
For myself is untouchable.
I look at myself and I feel comfortable in my skin.
My dimpled flesh, my belly that sticks out,
More than yours is alright. You can’t tell me I’m not beautiful

My size, does not define who I am.
My aura I give off, my soul, does that on its own.
I don’t look average, my huge thighs,
My tummy, big curly hair and the,
Pinkish skin. I am me, I am my own person.
You can’t tell me I’m not beautiful.
I am beautiful, I accept.
I am proud of this beautiful body.
I own.