Show me.

Lost: Have You Seen Me?

By Kristen Wade

I went to the hair salon. Yesterday.
To make myself. Make myself. Look OK.
The hairdresser said: Let's do something about
this mousy thin hair - illusion of colour,
illusion of depth.
Let's create. Let's create. Let's create your self.

Welcome to paradise. Re-new, re-texturize,
re-shape, re-juvenate.
Make me. Make me. Make me over again.
Make up a story. Make up a face.
Remake. Remake. Make-over.
Do you want to play this game of making over again?
Let's play hide and seek.
You want to be found? You want to look?
You want to be? You want to find beauty?
She is there on the TV. At the grocery store.
At the cinema. On the highway.
You can't escape. You can't escape.


(As a child I danced with horses and talked to
trees.
Now I imagine my thighs cellulite free)


We daily dissect me. Anatomy 101. Jelly belly,
big butt, fat lips, flabby arms.
Lines marked on my skin, inspections, glances
that sting.
What have you drawn on me? This is her
outline, not mine.
A pattern held before your eyes. A dress less
than half my size.


What is it that you see? What is it that you see?
(When you look at me?)
A stomach. A breast. A thigh. Do you eat me
with your eyes? Cut up my meat with your lies?
Like the woman I found. On the bus stop wall.
She has no face, no feet, is chopped in two.
She is missing. Wearing pantyhose that are
slimming.
I look for her. I look for you.


I am lost between pages of diet pills
and double chocolate cheesecake.
I am lost behind billboards and clothing labels
I am lost in the cosmetics aisle -
under "fulfilling" lipstick and "stay true"
mascara.
I am lost, a stranger to myself -
a blonde mannequin.


You won't find me. You won't find me. Just
like the first boy who called me ugly. "You're
ugly, do something about it." "You're ugly,
do something about it." "You're ugly, do
something about it." And I do something
about it. I follow a prescription from the
shelf.

Research has developed corrective treatments
that reshape your appearance.
Firm your arms fast. Flat abs at last.
Whittle your middle.
Re-contour. Refine. Renew. Instantly.
Skin smoothing technology. Recapture the look
of youth. The look. The look -
how to get it. The look. The look.
Who is looking?


You could try to find me. You could tell me
I'm beautiful and you'll love me anyway.
But it's all lies. The mirror knows I'm not the
right size.


This is how it is. How it is. What beauty tells
me.
I will always. I will always. Be unlovely.
Yet I will look less and less like myself trying
to make myself.
Make myself. Make myself. Someone else.
That actually doesn't exist.
(Eat --- less, weigh --- less, smell --- less.)
So show me. Show me. Show me I'm still here.
Before I. Before I. Disappear.