Sucked In.

I was told to suck my tummy in photos.

Barely nine.

Nine.

when my hands still reached for crayons,

not shame.

When mirrors and cameras were toys,

not a reminding of the pain.

*

But still,

“Stand straight. Tuck your tummy in.”

they said,

like my body was already too much to witness.

*

So I carried it,

tightened it,

tucked it into every smile I ever posed for.

And somewhere between flash and frame,

I started hating the idea of pictures,

started nitpicking every curve,

every fold that dared to show.

*

And maybe she didn’t mean it that way.

Maybe it was just a moment,

just a slip,

just a sentence tossed in the air.

But words land.

And they stay.

They cut little girls fairywings,

And teach them to count flaws like sins.

*

So I grew up a teenager

afraid to be seen.

A girl who practiced invisibility

in the mirror,

in the hallway,

in her own skin.

Because she couldn’t keep up with the rhythm.

Because she couldn’t hold her breath forever.

*

I still try to stand in front of the frame today,

Still trying to push the shame away.

Still wondering if who I am is enough.

*

Is my smile enough?

Is my softness allowed to show in my body?

Is there value in simply being,

without the edit, without the filter,

without the disembodiment?

*

Did God make some bodies

just to be adorned,

and others to be corrected?

Did He sculpt some with grace

and others with disclaimers?

*

Some girls sit.

Legs folded, shoulders soft,

and the world calls it beauty.

But me?

I was told to shrink.

To pull in.

To put in extra work

To be feminine,

To be suitable,

In hopes that someday

I’ll fit in their label of beautiful.

*

But now,

now I ask:

Who told you you had to work twice as hard

just to feel like a woman?

*

Who told you your belly was a burden?

That softness must be silenced?

That skin must be shaped to fit someone else’s gaze?

Who told you that those parts of you divinely formed

Where mistakes to be erased.

*

So I say:

Rub your belly.

Let it rise.

Let it round.

Breathe out….

Take up space.

Strip the corsets.

Unclench the jaw.

Unlearn the rules.

*

Let your body speak,

not in whispers of shame,

but in the language it makes.

*

Let your reflection see you

not the version they tried to sculpt,

but the you that breathes,

blooms,

and belongs.

*

Because you were never meant to be sucked in.

You were meant to be held whole.