The hands that bind

Standing in the shower, hands on the wall, hair remover cream on my arms and legs, conditioning treatment in my hair. Trying hard not to touch anything.

I feal like I've been standing here forever. Its uncomfortable. The things we do for beauty.

My hands though... Im staring at my hands. The world around me is ripping off there body hair, plastering their scalps with bleach and amonia. Squezing themselves into cloths that dont fit and starving themselves slowly, to death... but my hands...

My hands are so young. When the entire population is trying so hard to grow up, to be responcible, to make something of themselves according to everyone elce.

Im just looking at my hands, covered in chemicals, trying not to move.

My fingers nails are trimed. No polish. My fingers, chubby and short.

I remember my hands through the eyes of a younger self. Holding a stick tosting marshmellows in front of a fire. Making snowballs, my fingers bright red. Splashing water in front of me as I swam across the lake.

And Im standing here, not being able to touch anything. I cant... It will mess it all up. Not yet. 2 more minuets.

I give up. washing it all off. Im just a small girl. Wishing she was back there, when she was young, having fun with her hands. I never let them have fun any more.

Trying so hard to fit in to a world that only wants beauty, when all I want...is fun.