My body has same set of humanoid structures as you, like an emotional pump, a brainless device and others few. My body painted with pride and love, is sometimes soaked in deep waters of shame and regret. The old gray concave mirror in my room flirts with Milky way, tied up to my ceiling and mocks me and my olive green body.

“This body of yours…. Don’t you think is sluggish, a little fat, slightly caramel brown, unfriendly and short? Don’t mind me though…. I believe it’s a pure defective product…”

The layer of skin melting under the hot merciless Sun knows more lies, more tales, endless struggles of the past, present and the future. This mindless female body has heard a handul of handsome lies, bitter truths, disgusting remarks and a two or few lustful comments too.
The milky, slow moving fog delimits my supple body from swallowing the blank space further and tries to ignite the lost pride. My body speaks my mind. It’s an art of surviving not only hot and cold temperatures but also some arid faces who conspire with my past to blur my smile. It’s an art of communicating with others when my hesitant lips are sealed.
The poor body though has an extravagant dream of making a round trip to the moon.

“This is my body, my choice, my pride. Don’t toy with it. It’s not an object to please others, or to withstand any kind of physical, mental, or emotional abuse, or either to sing glories for bruises hiding under the skin.”

The caramel brown skin, a fat little body is someone else’s ideal type.

Written for: https://www.napowrimo.net/day-one-4/