I would like the powers that be,

who decide what “fashion” is,

to know how it feels to be told,

every day of your life,

that every part of your body is wrong.

I would like them to know how it feels to be told that their feet are too wide and too short at the same time.

That their torsos are too short

That their shoulders are too broad

Their legs too short, thighs too thick, calves too wide

That their waist is too small but their tummy too big

That their boobs are too big, their genitals too prominent, their figure all wrong.

I would like them to know how it feels to be told that it’s their fault that they don’t fit into clothing that in reality is made to fit no-one but shop mannequins.

To be told that you can’t be fat and short at the same time

That their real, human body doesn’t matter but photoshopped bodies do

And that all of this is their fault, because they’re too poor, too fat, too lazy, when the real reason is that “fashion” does not cater to human bodies.

By Autumn Stanislawski