I’m tired

I’m tired now.

I’m tired of seeing these airbrushed models, boasting of the natural looks, plastered in every magazine, every page of the books.

I’m tired of men holding their pencils, designing how I should be, in a man perfect world I’ll never feel free.

I’m tired now of not feeling enough, feeling depleted and feeling stuck. I’m tired of being told I’m not aesthetically pleasing, and having to accept the mans awkwardness, all of that sleazing.

I’m tired of painting my nails and colouring my hair; on a one woman mission to get men to stare.

I’m tired of swapping and changing to try and fit in, for what? A strangers grin.