FAT CHANCE

HURT

You always read about it in the papers. It’s always in a town not too far away from you, to a girl who could be you. And you never think it’s gonna happen. Because you say “I love myself. I’m content”. (Beat.) You hear about it on the news, happening to some young girl your age. But you say “That’s not gonna happen to me. I love myself. I’m content.”(Beat.) You see it happening in your world to people around you. You see them wither away into dust piles that don’t go when the wind blows. And you say “This is a lie. This is not real. That’s never gonna be me. I love myself. I’m content.”(Beat.) But then you look in the mirror, and what do you see?

                                                           

ADDICTION

Fat.

                                                                        POWER

Blubber.

                                                                        SACRIFICE

Monster.

                                                                        HURT

Animal. (Beat.)Ugliness, Spilling out of you like a waterfall and you can’t help but think “How can anyone love me?” And you try to wash yourself in tears and hope it all goes to hell on its way down the kitchen sink. But it don’t. It stays; it clings to your body like a parasite. And you’re hurting. (Beat.) Your hurting me…(Pause.) “I love myself. I’m content”… I’m hurting.

                                                                       

Fairytales are for Little Girls with no Self-Esteem

It’s like a fairy tale when it starts. You’re innocent and young. You believe in things and have wishes. You have dreams and hope. You wish on stars and pray to the night sky that everything is going to be ok.

You start as child who has nothing but their innocence in a brown bag and you clean the gutters to survive. People around you put you down, or lock you away… And you’re hurt like a flower being cut from the sun. But you still continue to think that there is good in people, and you dream of things. Things every girl dreams. Things every girl has except you. And then you meet your fairy godmother. And she says she’s gonna make it all come true. She grants your wishes, and you’re happy. All your dreams come true…you’re at the ball, and you’re dancing with the prince and you’re beautiful and no one can touch you. But then it ends. The clock strikes midnight and you die. You die and die so hard when you’re dead you are still dying. You wither away, wither away back into the girl you were before. But you are no longer innocent. You are no longer young, and pure and happy. The price to be in a fairy tale just for a moment, is to live in a nightmare forever more. (Beat.) Is it worth it?

This is not for me.

I'm not going to break down.
I'm not going to beg on my knees,
i'm not going to take you lying down,
And i will not scream saying "please".
I am not going to fight you,
But i am not going quitely.
I am not to resist you,
but i'm not going to except it.
i am not going to be strong,
But i'm not going to break as easily.
Im not gonig to cry.
No.

This is not my poem.
This is just a poem about me.
And you?
Well..
I'm not going bring you down like you did.
Because unlike you , I'm a human being.

Little Girls

I only eat air.

I only eat air.
I only chew gum.
I only wear heels.
I only love no one.
I only drink tears.
I only run catwalks.
I only think what they tell me.
I only know their words.
I only say scripted words,
I only eat air.
But you just don't care.

S.A.C.R.I.F.I.C.E

Something you all need to know.

When you're full of disgusting lard,
and your guilt buckles under your fat, tree trunk theighs
and you replaced will power with calories,
you march yourself over to me,
embrace my thrown
and pray to your Porcalian God.

Stick those sausage fingers of your
all the way down to your asophagus and
Give me your treason.

let your innocence commit sucide for me.
Slice your throat and let those indulgent calories poor out.
It's only alittle blood, You'll survive.
I want you to cry into me.
Give me your tears.
Give me your childhood.
Everything from your past..I'll take that too.
You must sacrifice everything for your sin.
You're a catastrophy.
You tratior.
No power.
No strength.
all you are is a fat soul.
I'll take that too, by the way.
I'm like the devil, but twice as powerful.
More addicting than Cocaine.
More needy than a puppy.
I'm everything.
I am everything you want to be, but because you have no will power you can never be me.
I am the Procelain God.
So bend to your knees and WORSHIP ME.

I'm sorry Anna...

I'm sorry Anna.
I tried.
I tried to stop them..but they just shoved it down.
Down
Down
Down
to hell with all my hopes of being beautiful.
I'm so sorry.
I dissapionted you.
I'm a disapiontment.
I'm ugly.
Im a spalttered bug on your windshield.
Go on, flick me off.
Wash me away in the water of discontent and
whipe me clean of sins
and splatter me onto the roadside
and let the vaultures eat my inners..
what is left that is.
I am Sorry Anna.
i can never be as beautiful,
as thin,
as perfect as you.
But what i'm most sorry for?
Im sorry, dear perfect Anna,
That i let you capture my uglyness in this photo.
fat.
oozing everywhere.
Why Anna?
Im sorry that im not thin enough.
Sorry Anna.
Sorry.

Pretty People: Hayley (Living with the Enemy)

Do you know what it's like to hate yourself?
To come home every day and be left with the person you can't stand to look at; When that person is your reflection?
Do you know what it feels like to wish to be a bug? Just so you can morph into something beautiful and shed away the ugliness? To fly into the air and be weightless and to know nothing but that feeling?

But bugs are crushed just as often as a girl blinks her eyes...and Every second I have to blink and open to see my own face staring back in the mirror crushes me.

I don't know where I went wrong...Maybe it was the diet pills, or maybe it was the un-supportive friends. But I’ve gone to the beaten path of self hatred and I don't think I will ever get back to the road.

It's so hard to look back at what I once was, and be satisfied. I was smart, pretty, wanted...
Out of all the kids in my pre-school class, I was awarded "MOST OUT-GOING!". I look back at the memories of when i was likable and try to decipher what ruined me...
I am a soiled spirit. Not soiled by lust, or by greed, but soiled by myself.

I have ruined something pure. And I cannot cleanse it.

They say you sacrifice lambs to suffice for the deeds of all the flock. The black sheep is banished to the outskirts of dead-grass land, while the pure innocent is killed to pay for the others sins...

I am the gray Sheep. Both sacrificed for the sins of others and for the sins of my own. My spirit is banished to the outskirts of society.or perhaps just my inner-most thoughts.

Living with the enemy is hard.
Most times it's unbearable. You want to put the paper bag over your head and cover up the eye-sockets so you don't have to face yourself.
You turn away and shutter at the touch of your own flesh and blood and you pray to god to take you away from this body.
You promise the world, you give the world! Anything to not face yourself when the sun rises.

You spray to the god's of Porcelain, and flush your childhood memories and dreams down with your dignity.
You smoke cigarettes until you get cancer, you drink black coffee until you can't stop shaking.
You smash mirrors until you’re satisfied with destroying the figure staring back.

But nothing in this un-fair world will save you from the truth.

Pretty People are made out of Ugly experiences.

I'm not one of those people.
Not today.
Not ever.

Hayley Michelle 15 years old. December 1, 2011.

PRETTY POEMS

Pretty by http://e1ande2.deviantart.com/

He told her she was pretty, she laughed and shook her head.
"thank you but don't mock me" and turned away from him.
He worried he'd upset her, so called her back once more. Asked
what was the problem and she glanced down to the floor.
"no need to call me pretty, you see I know I'm not. These girls
who are around me, deserve the compliment I got,
they're beautiful and skinny with eyes to beat the stars.
And I've got nothing but whats inside to challenge who they are."
He stared at her in silence, then called her nothing but a fool,
took her hand and whispered "compared to them you're beautiful"



Make me Pretty: By http://dead-doormouse.deviantart.com/

You hide your face and hide it fast,
You’re no stranger to this mask,
The box you keep of magik and tricks,
“Nothing a little lip gloss won’t fix.”

You open the box, contents unfurled,
Your barricade from this world,
Powder and lipstick create a fake smile,
Her pale face must not be seen, it’s not her style.

Eyeliner lies, hides faith from your eyes,
Blusher conceals and burns what is real.
Why can’t you see,
Beauty is for free?
Elegance is from within,
Not man made from a tin.

You hate yourself, you lack esteem,
Boys in your class are all so mean,
Due to remarks; some blunt, some witty,
You open your box and pray,
”Make me pretty.”

For Anna

Starting work on the Pretty People Series.
Hopefully, It will be finished by the end of the week so I may share a tid-bit with you.

I have been pulling re-search for plays of it's kind. Here are some good plays/poem books to read:

1.      For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf by Ntozake Shange

2.      Stick Figure: A Diary of My Former Self by Lori Gottlieb

3.      Little Girls in Pretty Boxes by Joan Ryan

4.      Inside the "Thin" Cage by Constance Rhodes

Hayley Michelle

The Pretty Plays

Hello, Pretty People of Blogger!

Recently, as you know, I have been documenting Stories of true life events that make pretty people out of ugly experiences.

With some exuctive bicking with myself, I have decided to commit to writing  a Pretty Project Series of Plays.

These plays, hopefully, will be preformed and with the money I make will be given to create a pretty project network. Where i can involve the pretty community with bringing awarness to ullying and how it effects people. I want to bring attention to what is going on, and i want to change it.

Let's change the world: One play at a time.
<3

Thank You For reading,
Hayley Michelle

Pretty Girls Suicide. Support art and Save a life. Love yourself!

http://demachic.deviantart.com/



http://donotattempt.deviantart.com/


A Pretty Girl’s Suicide

All the voices say
She has such a pretty smile
One that lasts for days
Like it was plastered on her face

All the voices say
She wears such pretty clothes
The colors that just stand out in a crowd
Like she was a butterfly

All the voices say
She has such pretty eyes
A mixture of green and blue
Like where the ocean meats the sky

All the voices say
She has such pretty hair
It would shimmer in the breeze
Like dew on grass

All the voices say
She was such a pretty girl
A girl who would make boys mouths water
Like a freshly baked apple pie

But pretty is as pretty does
Every time she glimpsed a mirror
It would tell her those voices are saying lies
She couldn’t take it, all the lies

So she committed suicide
She had a pretty smile
She had worn a pretty dress
She had left open her pretty eyes
She had been strangled/hung by her pretty hair

The world is full of pretty things
It has its pretty people
Lots of pretty words
Many pretty places
But when will pretty stop

Clenched in her hand
Was the lipstick she smeared
On the mirror in front of her

( It read )

Pretty girls
Live in pretty fantasies
Ugly girls
Live in ugly realities
Pretty words are measly ugly lies
( http://picaninny-ice-freeze.deviantart.com/ )

Pretty People: Meghan (The Price of Beauty)

1% of America has enough money to surpass life and then to live.
the other 99% can get by, but most cannot even do that.
Let me give you a hint: I am not part of the 1%.
No, I am part of the mass blob of poverty.

"Money makes the world go around".
For my world, it slows and stops it.

They say you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, or by its price tag. But we all do; don't deny it. WE pick our friends because of class. We want the top friends; the ones with the nicest clothes and the ones that will get you places. I'm not going to be one of those girls.

People sometimes pity me...most times the look at me like I’m a disgusting Tissue that has been blown in...And to others I am just air to walk through. Nothing.

But they forget that they're only human.
I'm human too.
Before Money was ever invented we were all human. No money; no class; no status.
Status is a fancy word for Rancid Pride and Ego.

I live in a small house. Not even that; it is an insult to say it is less or more than a place to sleep at night...or try. It is a pimple on the face of a tiny town in New Jersey where the kids grow up to work at gas-stations and fast food chains.

My mom works two jobs to just run power through our little place. My mother is so strong. She is the glue that holds my crumbled little worthless world together. Our lives are supported by rotted driftwood, and she somehow manages to keep us afloat. I don't know how she does it...perhaps I never will. But she is amazing and I don't know what I would do without her.

She raised me, my brother and my dog by herself.
My brother is a pig.

Not just for his looks but his mannerisms are piggish. I cannot bare to look upon him, cause it is all I see. We are pigs, stuck in Farmer Life's pen. He is free to slaughter us and spares no mercy, and leaves us out in the sun-dried mud to roll around in and rot.

We are rotting pigs in the mud.

Sometimes I pretend like I’m a farmer, and not a pig. I can afford things. I can afford to put food every night on the table for my family. I can eat. I don't mean survive, i mean eat.I want to loosen my belt buckle instead of hold my stomach in pain. Sometimes we go weeks without food.

All our money goes into keeping a hot tin roof over our head. A tin roof that is rusting.
I want to give money to my family to buy them things and make them feel wanted.

I want my mom to wear pearls. Really pearls. She deserves them. I want her to relax and get the thanks she deserves for being there for me. But i cannot, with all the stars in the sky and wishing, I cannot.

I cannot be anything but a Pig. And I try to get out of the mud, but the mud is quick sand and I'm sinking and sinking deeper and deeper into 99% of America.

Deeper and deeper.

But if I’m going to drown in this quicksand of dollars and pennies, I am not going down as a pig. I am going as a human being.

Pretty People are made out of Ugly experiences.
I am not a pig; I am a pretty person.

Someday.
Everyday.

Just not today.



Meghan Kitzler 16 years old, November 15, 2011.

Who told you that you weren't pretty?

Well?
Won't you answer me?
Who told you that you weren't worth it...
Seriously.
I need to know.
Don't feel like talking?
Fine, just listen then.
They were wrong.
Whoever told you that is brain-damaged.
I know this isn't much of a poem.
I know its not the way you wanted someone to tell you they love you,
But its what i could do.
I care.
I think your beautiful.
I thin your worth it.
I think I love you.

I can be pretty too, you know.

I can be pretty too, you know.
You may not be able to see
But maybe it's because your blind.
You may not be able to hear me screaming for help,
but maybe thats because your deaf.
You may not be able to hug me,
but maybe that's because your not real.

 I can be pretty too, you know.
I can wear those ugly brown boots,
drench myself in the same sentless purfume.
I can wear the same logo that defines you.
I just don't.

I can be pretty too, you know.
I can play tonnsil hockey with myself and my finger,
I can Pass the food,
I can pop the pills.
I jsut don't.

I can be pretty too, you know.
I jsut choose not to fall to your stupidity.

PS? I am Pretty.

Pretty People: Sara Beth (I'm not the victim here)

I'm not the vitcim here...
I'm not the pray.
I didn't stand there and wait for it to happen. I was smart about it.

Every kid hears about bullies. THere in practically every fairy tale.
The step-sisters in Cinderella.
The mom in Hansel and Gretel.
The wolf in Little Red riding hood.

But I knew I wasn't in a fairytale...Like I said, I was smart.
Correction I am smart.

Bullies are like Detrivors. They pick at the dead, kill the half-alive, and circle you until you drop dead.

Weakness are parts of us that are dead...

I knew I had to loose a few pounds.
I learned that was my wekness before they did.
But that's good...right?
My friends weren't Barbies.
They were un-discribable.
Pretty. Bruenette.
They looked like me... but i was...thicker than them.
They didn't need to loose weight. They never had.
I always have.

I wasn't about to do this blindley.
I wanted to put of the weight and keep it off.
I started going to the gym alot.
AND EATING!

Not eating, only hurts you. Eating right is better then not eating at all.
If we all jsut put alittle effort into what we eat, we might not have to suffer from bullying on weight.
If you stop yourself from bullying, you may being stopping another person's misery too.
Stand up, grow up, Stop it.
Jsut because your not the target yet, doesn't mean you won't be eventually. Take a stand and make sure your not the target. Stop bullying!

Its wrong, and don't let it happen to you or others.
<3

Pretty People are made out of ugly experiences.
I am pretty person.
Someday.
Every day

Sara Beth 14 years old. November 3, 2011.

Pretty People: Robbie (I am what I am)

Youth is about discovering yourself, and adolescence is about refining that definition and in some cases re-discovering your findings. For me, I had discovered myself at the young age of Ten.

I knew that I, Robbie Cody was smart. Intelligent.

Bi.

School is like a science lab.

It's a time for experimenting; seeing if the right two chemicals get together...will it be perfect chemistry? or it may all just might blow up in your face.

I never forget his face...sweet and caring.

He was always shy though...Like that little lost toy in the chest box. So adorable...But never played with. Scared a little. Almost timid is the word...

His name was Kareem.

I remember... 5th grade sitting in those tiny desks...exchanging glances.

Everyone else around us was playing with their "chemistry sets"...

He was always scared of telling the "world about his discovery". I never was. I was proud of my experimental success.

We picked ourselves us by our boot straps, and we put on our lab coats and found the secret ingredient to perfect chemistry.

The secret ingredient to a great experiment is love. For your lad partner...but mainly for yourself.

How can you love someone else if you can't love yourself?

After our first kiss...I knew I was bi. I had no problem with that fact about myself.

Many people feel that they have to hide from it; hide from themselves.

Lucky for me...my friends and family were supportive. True, there was the occasional person who didn't like what I was...but I don't need to hide or change for them.

It's my life, not there's.

Live your life for YOU!!!!

However, all good things eventually come to an end... Kareem moved away...however that feeling i felt for myself did not.

We lost connection...but I didn’t loose my confidence.

Some call it science, I call it chemistry.

Every "Scientific Discovery", is a part of you. You never know who you are unless you put yourself out there and experiment!

 I love the way I am. I know who I am, and I love it.

Pretty people are made from ugly experiences.

I am me, and I am not going to hide it.

I am a pretty person.

Someday.

Every day.

Robbie Cody, 15 years old October 20, 2011

Life is pretty, only when you make it

Life is such a loose subject to talk about. There are thousands of theory's on how life began.
But life it's self...? No one can directly say what life is.
However, the dictionary defies life as the general or universal condition of human existence.
My personal therory is that life begins when we as human beings are formed.
True, we have foarmed our bodies in a womb, incubating there for 9 months.
But we are not human beings until we begin to "be".
That's when life really begins. When we as individuals start to develope our own personalities aside from what our parents want us to be.
It is a parents job to protect their children, and work twards them having a better life then them.
From the second we are born they make decisions for you to help you reach that goal of a better life.
They give you a name.
They give you clothes, and dress you up as a princess or a cowboy.
Every parent wants the best for their children. They mold us like clay.
Children are clay, and parents are the sculpters.
The teachers are the master artists, and the rest of the insignificent world , are the cricts.
Everyone is a critic.
But the basis of life begins when the clay begins to form its self. When the it develpoes cracks, and dents up to the piont where the sculpture cannot be retouched anymore. There can be no more done for it, but to let it decompose. And we decompose back into clay...
But that raw state of being clay, is what life really is.
No one is alive.
True, we are all living and breathing..but we are not alive.
We live in the world of the artists brush. Everything is painted, and plastered…and only when we are broken down, and are nothing but clay...when we can sit upon the sidlines and observe the work of art that we live in...we will never truely be alive.
Life is an unatanable apple. Red, big, and juicy. Plump, on God’s highest tree that rests on the tallest mountain.
Life is meaningless.
The journey to that apple called life? The journey is where life really should be lived..not at the peek of the mountain..but at the slope leading up to it.

Pretty People: Hayley (Aquired Taste)

Ethel Merman was known as "Old leather lungs". People used to say they could hear from the nose-bleed seats without the a microphone.
"Sing out Louise!!!"

From the moment I was born I made sure I was heard. I had something important to say, and I wasn't about to be silenced.
But volume doesn't make people listen...

I used to be called the "Human Microphone". I kind of liked it, at least they knew I existed, right? Being anonymous is worse then being wrong.  Being un-heard is worse than not being able to talk...

I always talk too much. That's what everyone says. I don't have a problem articulating my thoughts...
My problem was filtering it.
When people said "Turn down the volume!", they never ment the music.

I never had any friends because people said hanging around me would give them "Hearing Damage".
And everyone called me an "aquired taste".

I hate the word so much.
My few friends said that to me.
My teachers.
Even my parents...

So what...I'm loud... But iwas born this way. Loud and proud.

I'm not an aquaired taste. I'm a work of art. Everyone sees it, but most people don't get it.

I am a pretty, loud, person.

Someday.
Everyday.

Hayley Michelle 14 years old. October 11, 2011.

Ana R. Xia

Dear Reader,

So, you want to be skinny? I don't blame you. You're the fattest human being I've ever seen. I honestly don't know why you let yourself live. I have a lot of work to do, so you'd better listen up and follow every single instruction I give you.
Food makes you fat. Calories are your natural enemy. Think you're hungry? Think again. You want to put something in that tummy of yours? Not while I'm here. Eating is for people with no self-control. You're better than that, I hope. What defines us as people? Will power. Show some. Put down that fork. Do you really need to eat dinner? You can pass on breakfast and lunch, too. Look in the mirror. What do you see? Fat. It's everywhere, spreading over your body like a disease. Why on earth would you need food when you have so much of it under your skin? Gluttony is as much a sin as it is repulsive. Let's not embarrass ourselves.
You know your boyfriend? You can forget about him. He doesn't matter. You know your friends and family? Forget about them, too. They will only try and stop us. They will get in our way and become the obstacles you fight to overcome, the distractions that hinder our progress.
School and work aren't important. Sure, you can spend hours studying if it'll keep your mind off food. Are these the things that define us? No, we are defined by how thin we are. What people see when they look at us. What is the use having perfect grades and a perfect career if you don't have a perfect body to match?
Start being productive. Do something with your life. Read books about me, make a scrapbook about me, listen to music about me, look at pictures of skinny girls who love me. That can be you. You can be the girl who is tiny, who is worth writing a book about, worth being in pictures.
Weigh yourself every morning and every night. Weigh yourself before you eat. Weigh yourself after you eat. Calculate your BMI everyday. You need to be in the category "< 18.5." You need to be underweight. When you pass a mirror, check it. Stare into it. Frown at the saddlebags and love handles. Smile at the bones poking through your skin. We are almost there. You are not vain, you are insecure. Get it right.
Smoke cigarettes until you feel sick. Drink coffee until you can't stop shaking. Chew gum until your jaw hurts. Drink water until you're full. Do sit-ups until you can't breathe. Starve until your vision blurs and your knees buckle, and then continue to starve. These are my commandments. These are the rules of the game. They mustn't be broken.
What if I eat, you ask? You take that obese and bulging body of yours to the bathroom and stick your fat finger down your fat fucking throat. We don't eat.
I'm your best friend. You need to know this. I will always be here, no matter what. We will fight, but you will always come back to me. Always apologize. And I will take you back every single time, because you are so pathetic I cannot turn away. I will never leave you, and you can never leave me. I'm the voice in your head. I'm the one who praises, and the one who punishes. When you are too small for your clothes, I love you. And when you put on a pound, I can't look at you. Still, we are best friends. I am all you need.
You wont be able to sleep. Fortunately, that gives you more time to work out. It gives us more time to bond. It'll be hard at first, but you'll get used to it.
This isn't going to be easy, but it's a necessity. And lastly, remember that it is never enough. You are never good enough, never pretty enough, never miserable enough, never tired enough, never thin enough.
Keep these things in mind. Follow my rules, and you'll be fine. You'll be skinny and gorgeous. Everybody will be jealous. You will be happy. You will be untouchable. You will be the spitting image of perfection.
I am very glad you accepted me into your life. I look forward to spending every waking moment with you. Pretty soon, there won't be a 'you' and a 'me' anymore. There will be nothing but 'us,' and isn't that all you really wanted? You wanted to be skinny.

Yours Truly,
Ana

Poetry by a Pretty Girl

"Mirror Mirror"

Mirror Mirror
    On the wall
Push her down
    And watch her fall
Stick her fingers
    Down her throat
But no one really
     Needs to know.
Pain is nimble
    Hurt is quick
Burns her like a candle wick.
    Pills relax
Heart stops breaking
    Fades to black
It all stops aching
    Stolen youth
Never found
    Lost in fields
Bring in the clowns
    Cracks in the glass
Flaws shown
    Self-confidence?
No. only alone.
    Open the bottle
Close of the mind,
    Love is stupid,
Never blind
    Grab the wheel,
Take a breathe,
    Find an escape,
And catch your breath.
    Get lost in Subduction.
Get hurt by your actions.
     Find the light in your darkest of falls.
Shatter the mirror,
And expcept the truth that
Your not so perfect after all.



" When being human wasn’t enough"

I hope you’re happy.

I hope you know I did this all for you.

I hope you’re satisfie

You monster.

I hope my tears had quenched you thirst.
I hope my starving filled your hunger.
I hope my darkness led you to the light,
Of starry eyed lies of wonder.
I hope my pain had made you stronger,
I hope my screams had made you laugh.
I hope my suffering caused you happiness.
I hope my stifling gave you breathe.
But there comes a time when hope isn’t enough.
No…it was never enough for you…was it?
Always wanting more.
More,
More.
You want something I cannot give to you.
Something I will not give to you.
You can take my mind.
You can take my body.
You can have it all;
but have the decency to leave me my humanity.


"My Ten Little Friends"

If you have one good friend,
it's better than having a million bad ones.
But i say two is better than one,
And ten is netter than two!

my Ten little friends,
 my Ten tiny friends,
My Ten little friends,
on my two big hands.
Ten little friends,
will make me pretty again.

Ten little friends,
take a trip down my troat,
take a swing at a punching back and up,
all the food goes!

Ten little friends,
make me pretty again.
Ten little friends,
will never hurt me,
Ten little friends will never betray me.

Ten little friends.
will make me pretty.



all three poems writen by Hayley Michelle. Please, don't be these girls. Change the world: One blog at a time.

Hayley Michelle 14 years old, October 4th, 2011.

Pretty People: Jenna (My Brother's Keeper)

He's only little...you know?

Just a little kid. Kids are supposed to be goofy. They're designed to be innocent and fun. They don't have filters, or masks to hide behind because they’re just themselves.

My brother will always be a little kid...

In science they say that if you have less than or over 46 chromosomes you get a mutation gene...I'm not sure that is the word I’m looking for, but it really is the best way I can think of saying it.

They told my brother that in science class...told him that because he has autism that he was technically, a mutant.

But my brother Andrew didn't mind.

He didn't even blink an eye.

He just thought that that had meant that he was belonged to the X-men.

It's wrong to judge others by that...being "a mutant"...being different.

It's even worse when they judge their sister because they're brother isn't your average kid.

It's sickening...actually.

I was never popular in the first place... and it got even worse when they found out about my brother...

I remember that there was a time when I hated him...when I regret having him in my life...

I remember my brother crying when I and my mom went to pick him up from school late and screaming “I HATE YOU! YOU DON'T LOVE ME ANY MORE!!!"

I remember that no one was really there except this one kid who I knew...This one kid saw everything. And I mean everything. He just stood there, watching...intruding into my world...and then rode off as if nothing happened.

The next day people gave me these looks...I think I even heard one of them comment on how i'm "just like my brother...stupid".

But Andrew's not stupid...He's smart. And he loves to draw... And one of the things I love best about him is that he'll go out of his way to make you smile.

Life in Middle school was pretty terrible...but when I got to Junior High...everyone seemed to mature.
I don't get judged by Andrew anymore...he makes my life better.

When I have friends over, they always ask how Andrew is...

I would never ask for a better brother.

He makes my life happy, and full of smiles and laughs....He makes my life Pretty.

I’ve broken through to the other side. I'm in the pretty. I'm confident. I'm happy...You should be to. With yourself...with your family, with everyone!!! And share this with your brother..or sister...Love your siblings. They're the only ones you get. They were made just for you, so don't take them for granted.

I am a Pretty Person because of my brother.

Someday.
Everyday.

Jessicia Junqua, 14 years old. October 3, 2011.

Pretty People: Chelsea (Meterial Girl)

They say your teenage years of life are the hardest. When your a teen, you have so much to worry about. Grades, college, having the friends, looking pretty to get a date.

But that didn’t' really mean anything to me.

I personally don't think it should matter. You should be judged by what’s in your heart, not what’s in your coach purse.

My parents thought the same; it wasn't necessary. But to the world it is. If you’re not bedazzled to the nine's...your nothing. Like fashion says "One day you’re in, and the next day you’re out".

I guess you can say I was "in" in elementary school. But yet...I was different. My friends were plastered carbon-copy Barbies...with the Ugg boots, and wristlets. Nothing was ever good enough for them.

They would always talk fashion. They talked "trash Fashion"

"Oh my god, Chelsea, did you see those hemi-downs? Disgusting!!!"

And the worst matter of fact, is that they talked about each other when the backs were turned.

I knew they always talked about me.

I was like the Teresa in the Barbie group. I looked like them...but I never truly belonged.

I had friends outside of the popular click. I had great friends, in fact....

Her name was Niki. She was so sweet to me. She never complained about the fact that i never owned a northface jacket...she was like me. And we were never materials girls, but we were living in the material world.

I think the final straw was with Niki.

I was at a party with all of them, and we were hanging out...as friends do! But the minute she turned away, they're smiles formed to sneers and they jeered at her shoes!

"Oh my god, did you see those hideous sneakers? Who wears those? She should get herself a pair of Uggs, if she wants to look less pathetic".

I just couldn't take that anymore. The back-talking and the hurting of friends...So I had called up my mom and told her that i needed to get away.

You see, the beauty in that phone call was the power i had to do something right. I didn't need to stand there and take any of their gossip. I had a choice to join in, or actually do something right....

it feels good to take the path most over-see. The correct one.

As humans we all want to fit in.

The world is like a puzzle. You eventually fid  the pieces that you click with...But you also try things that don't really work out. Together, united we make a picture.

My puzzle? My puzzle is a  picture of a pretty girl. Pretty isn't in the clothes, it's in the heart.

Pretty people are made out of ugly experiences. And the true beauty in them is the strength they had to overcome the ugliness of life and keeping going.

I’ve Brocken through to the other side. I'm in the pretty. I'm confident. I'm happy...You should be to. With yourself...with the world, with everyone!!! And you should never change that for any Barbie. No one.

I am a Pretty Person.

Someday.
Everyday.

Chelsea Dyer 15 years old September 26, 2011.

Pretty People: David (Obesity)

I never really understood it...Why most people don't like themselves. In a way, I guess..I never really understood myself.

I grew up as this shy little thing...I never socialized. It was just always me and the Twinkies.

You know, sometimes I try and look back and laugh at it. Honestly. But it's hard sometimes.

I think it was the fourth grade when it had all started...

Everyone always says "Don't forget the little people in life"..But what about us Big guys?

I was 180lbs when I entered fourth grade. Everyone with their Barbie pack-backs and they're power ranger lunch boxes... Laughing with tiny little giggles...

But then there was me. This big..thing. Built like a bear; like the biggest loser "before".

I was always picked on for that. Because I was like a sumo wrestler...Or so I was told back then.

They wouldn't even let me play baseball with them. Its something i will never forget...walking out to that green baseball field and having all of these stick boys turn me down. i wasn't good enough for them....I wasn't good enough for anyone...

By the end of elementary years, I had reached 243 lbs..and the biggest I was ever in my life, was 260lbs!

I wasn't even on the Body Mass Scale...

I had this realization at the end of my middle school years...epiphany about me.

I had been sitting in the shadows of my weight...If I want something to happen, I have to do it. No one else. Its up to ME.

So the first thing I did was stop eating "bad foods". Cut off all fatty foods, and no soda. Except diet on rare occasions. Start filling up on fruits, veggies and liquids. When you drink lots of water, your body thinks its full. (good tip!)

I also started walking NON-STOP. The tip is to get a pedometer and make sure you walk 5000+ steps a day.

So today? I weigh 163lbs. And NO ONE makes fun of me. If anything? My past has made me stronger.

No ones perfect. Don't strive for it. Strive for being happy with yourself. You will never reach perfect if you don't feel good already.
Stand up for yourself! We are the only ones who can change the future!

Pretty people are made out of ugly experiences. And the true beauty in them, is the strength they had to overcome the ugliness of life and keeping going.

I’ve Brocken through to the other side. I'm in the pretty. I'm confident. I'm happy...You should be to. With yourself..with the world, with everyone!!!

I am a Pretty Person.

Someday.
Everyday.

David Ruiz, 15 years old September 22, 2011.



Before:

 

AFTER:

Fun House World

Body Dimorphic.

Body Dimorphic is the disease that makes you feel like you’re living in a fun house of horrors. Every Mirror is a fun house mirror. You’re always too fat. Too short. Your nose is bigger than it should be.

About 1-2% of the general population is affected by body dimorphic disorder. This estimate, however, is inaccurate due to a number of unreported cases...because the problem with Body Dimorphic, is that most people do not know they have it. Or in even worse case, they refuse to except reality of diagnosis.

The most prominent cases of Body Dimorphic have been with the age group of 10-30.

Body Dimorphic is a gate-way disorder to anorexia and or bulimia and many other disorders that usually lead to a beauty related early death.

That is why I would like to introduce you to:

RACHEAL BAUGHAN, 27, from Crawley in Sussex, is an entrepreneur who runs her own modeling agency. She has written a book, The Butterfly Girl, about her body-image problems.

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Rachel was Diagnosed with Body Dimorphic Disorder (BDD) in 1998. Since then, she has seeked treatment and written a book that I would HIGHLEY suggest to many people. Her words and her journey is inspirational to girls like me in this fun house world.

Hayley Michelle: un-officially diagnosed with BDD in the winter of 2010. Seeking personal treatment now. And is now focusing on educating others about this growing dilemma in the teen reality of beauty obsessions and disorders.

Please, spread the word about this and educate yourself. Test yourself to see if you suffer from this disorder alike many people in the world. Below are links to all articles mentioned, and an on-line test for BDD. Please take, share results if you want and please get help. I am here for you....all of you who are reading. One pretty person to another. <3

Hayley Michelle

 

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/beauty/article-1195336/Body-dysmorphic-disorder-Four-beautiful-women-distorted-way-THEY-themselves.html#ixzz1YX1rgkWG
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/beauty/article-1195336/Body-dysmorphic-disorder-Four-beautiful-women-distorted-way-THEY-themselves.html
http://www.pamguide.com.au/anxiety/bdd_test.php
http://www.thebutterflygirlrachealbaughan.co.uk/

Pretty Pictures: Disturbing but true pictures

Please support these artists!

Hayley Michelle

http://scaryjesus.deviantart.com/
http://angelikakrinke.deviantart.com/
http://ascenttomadness.deviantart.com
/http://rowen-silver.deviantart.com/

Pretty People: Hayley (Trichatillamania)

I have always written down about my life...but I never thought I would ever get the chance to do something life changing through writing.

I don't even know where to start...I guess it all started when I was in first grade.

I think that's really when our real lives begin. When we start to develop our own personalities, aside from what our parents had wanted us to be.

We inherit traits from our family. We pick up certain habits from them, we embody our parents in a strange way... at least I did.

From the very beginning I was the spitting image of my mother. I still am today. When we go walking around people comment on how we look like twins!

But I never got anything else from my mother besides my outside features...I got everything else I have from my dad's side.

My weird and extremely loud way of talking... my drive and ambition to go up and beyond what's expected...and the tendency to go a little insane at times.

I really used to be like my Grandmother though...My grandma is the loudest person I know and she is never afraid to say what's on her mind.

She came her from France at the end of World War II. She was European model.

She still walks around as if she is! She used to teach me how to put on makeup, and walk in heels. By the time I was four all I wanted was a prom dress and a man to drape over my arm as my favorite accessory.

But there was also another quality I had taken from my Grandma. My grandma had a beauty obsession. She would refuse to eat in front of anyone, and would always comment on my looks. She would tell me that I need more cover-up to cover up my facial features that were not "beautiful" to the eye.

I have never questioned her because some part of me knew that she was right deep down inside.

My grandma and my mom were popular in school.

I guess I was up until first grade when everything began to change. I would only wear the prettiest dresses, and I would only have play-dates with the select few. So, in a way I was popular.

I had skipped kindergarten because I was smarter than everyone else in my class. My problem was, that I had no problem expressing the fact that I was! I guess you can say that's when things began to go down hill...but I can still argue with some other dark moments in my life.

another thing that I was before 1^st  grade, was the cutest little girl you'd ever seen.

I have tapes of me when I was little, giving an Oscar speech, and talking about why I think everyone should be like me and be afraid of nothing.

But then there came the day I became afraid of everything.

By the age of 6 I was diagnosed with Trichatillamania.

Trichatillamania is a brain disease that makes your hair fall out.

That’s always what I told everyone so they wouldn't make too much fun of me. But really its a fancy term for saying your hair falls out so you begin to pull it out of your body because of unnatural desires of beauty and pain.

Luckily, for me it was only my eyelashes. I know people...or well, I have read and seen pictures of people...that had pulled out all the hair in their scalp, eyes, and eyebrows.

I used to have the longest lashes. Everyone use to tell me that I was the girl with the pretty brown eyes. That I would bat an eye and houses in Thai-land would blow away....

But then I lost that. After everyone began to know about it, I began to lose not only friends, but self-confidence. I became very....externally internal.

I would spend most of my days sitting under a tree singing to myself all alone, because no one wanted to play with me..a freak. A Trichatillamaniac. They used to say the meanest things about me...

I remember one day when I was at SACC (an after school program that no longer exists because the board of education loves to suck the life out of everything, RIP SACC)...I remember that my friends and I were playing on the sea-saw outside.

I did have a few select friends...but they had all grown up and changed into people that used my secrets as weapons on me... its always the one's you think you'll love forever...

But that is a memory for a different time.

We were playing on the sea-saws...or better to say..they were playing on the sea-saws. One of the girls who I used to call a "friend" Had told me I couldn’t because I was too big, and the sea-saw couldn't hold my weight. And then one of her friends said that I was still lighter than before...you know "without the eyelashes".

I just remember crying that day. Most of my memories of school are about me crying...Isn't that sad? To have most of your childhood memories be about crying?

I guess it could have been worse, you know? But it was pretty bad, looking back at it all.

Pretty people are made out of ugly experiences. And the true beauty in them, is the strength they had to over come the ugliness of life and keeping going.

I’m still trying to break through to the other side. I'm still stuck in the ugly...fighting my way to get out.

But I will become a pretty person one day.

Someday.
But not today.

Hayley Michelle, 14 years old. September 19, 2011.

Smart Art

Hello, pretty people!

So I just wanted to post this to sorta "SUM" up what this blog is about. Because to be honest, I'm a little confused myself!

So I ultimately know that I want this blog to be about using art to carry across a message. My personal message to the world is about Beauty obsessions and the teen world today; about how we are targeted and easily subjective to bullying mainly because of the differences that do make us beautiful.

So Once a week I will do, sort of an "article" format to discuss what i find interesting to me or disturbing. It is something that I think people should hear about, something we should support or fight!

Also, every day I’m going to do a "Pretty People" series.

The "Pretty People" series will be about REAL people, and REAL events on how they were put into situations like many un-fortunate teens today, or how they are put into these positions. About how they overcame it, or how they are fighting to not only change their life but change others.

Starting off with me.

I am a girl who has, and still is, fighting the ugly people in life.

I am in no position to call anyone ugly...but I truly believe to the bottom of my soul that if you have to hurt and put others down to make you feel beautiful, then you are ugly from the skin to your core.

I have always wanted to tell my story. From the eyes of the blank canvas that no one wanted to paint on...

And I am going to tell my story. I am also going to search for others. Others alike me... and I cannot wait to tell their stories.

There is always a story waiting to be told.

There is also many kinds of art, but my art I want to create is Smart Art.

I want to create art that will educate, and provoke people. I want to create art that will help people...and perhaps condemn some people. I want people to see if they’re the victim, or if they're the ones hurting. And I want to help people change that. None of us need to take it. We don't need to take anything!

We only need to take our humanity.

Hayley Michelle

The beauty of Self confidence

Hello. My name is Hayley Michelle, and this is The Pretty Project. The Pretty project was created to educate people about what i see as a personal problem with the world today; the beauty obsessions and that teenage girls do not feel comfortable in their own bodies: How they crave to be something classified as "Beautiful". But what really is beautiful?


Beautiful- having qualities that give great pleasure or satisfaction to see, hear, think about, etc.; delighting the senses or mind. Excellent of its kind. Wonderful; very pleasing or satisfying.


It has become more common that girl between 12-25 make up most of the population of people who have eating discords. The numbers show up to 95%,a s in an account last year. Anorexia is the third most common chronic illness among teens today! The even scarier statistics, is that over one-half of teenage girls and nearly one-third of teenage boys use unhealthy weight control behaviors such as skipping meals, fasting, smoking cigarettes, vomiting, and taking laxatives.


All for the price of "being beautiful”.


 But beauty is not that tooth-pick, blonde on the cover of the magazine! Do you know that 47% of girls in 5th-12th grade reported wanting to lose weight because of magazine pictures?! And 69% of girls in 5th-12th grade reported that magazine pictures influenced their idea of a perfect body shape. 42% of 1st-3rd grade girls want to be thinner (*Collins, 1991).
And 81% of 10 year olds are afraid of being fat (*Mellin et al., 1991). That is 81% of the ten year old population. When your ten...you should be afraid of spiders. Not a fear of becoming fat.


Beauty has become more and more of a poison to teenage girls, rather than a friend.
But what I think the public does not understand about beauty, is the fact that beauty is in the eye of the beholder! Last time I had checked...I had not appointed anyone to be the judge of perception. People are constantly being blinded everyday by being told they are not beautiful. Chances are that the person, who had told you that, is not beautiful themselves.If you cannot see the beauty in yourself, then you can see the beauty in no-one.

But people in today's society do not understand that! They don't see the need to look for beauty in themselves; rather they see the need to change the things that they find un-beautiful!
The fact that nearly most female American’s have an interest or have already had breast implants, Botox, liposuction and many more beauty procedures that go under the knife is sad and rising number. Cosmetic surgery skyrocketed 299% from 1997 to 2003, and is still increasing in the number of women who feel as if they're real bodies are not pretty enough for the world, so they have to replace reality with plastic.
But for many today, it is becoming what I would call an "epidemic".
 The fact that more teenage girls are developing beauty obsessions every day is a terrible thing that is happening to the world. And it should be our job, as human beings, to create a safe environment for these future generations to find comfort and satisfaction in the reflection in the mirror!


"The borderline between a usual desire to be beautiful and an unhealthy obsession can be rather thin. You think you’ll be happier having new breasts. But then you get a good idea to get rid of the small folds on your hips and also of the bags below eyes. It’s the same as other things in life – we set our hearts on certain dreams: when I’m done studying, I’ll meet my Prince Charming; when my house is built, when the kids are older and I go back to work, when it’s spring, summer...Is it possible to achieve happiness, considering the body does age? " - article about beauty obsession.

The rate of girls that are longing to be everything but themselves is sad. I should know, because I was..I am one of those girls. But I am one of those girl who doesn't want to be Barbie anymore. I want to be a real girl. I girl who is happy with her life, and with herself. I don't want to long for beauty anymore. I want to long for a better life. For me, my friends...the whole world. All it takes is one girl at a time to stand up for what they believe in.

This is what The Pretty Project is about. Standing up for the girl in the mirror who doesn't like what she sees. I take it personally upon myself to do everything I can to try and change that. By then end of 2013, I want to see those numbers downsized drastically. I want to see a smile when I look in the mirror.


I want everyone to see a smile when they look in the mirror.


The price of beauty is high. Most of the time, I think it is not worth the pain we put ourselves through... Why should we suffer for fake beauty, when all we have to do is look deep down in ourselves and find what we like! All we have to really do is love ourselves, and one another.
"All you need is love"

Thank you for reading,
Hayley Michelle


(Information on today's sources is linked below. Please read and inform yourself about what's going on and make a difference. Every little bit counts. Tell a strange their beautiful, or you r niece. Tell everyone. And you can see that you have just influence a life in a positive manner. <3 thank you<3)

http://www.laderma.com/obsession-with-beauty-2.asp

http://www.anad.org/get-information/about-eating-disorders/eating-disorders-statistics/

http://www.webmd.com/healthy-beauty/news/20050228/how-many-young-women-get-plastic-surgery

Collins, M.E. (1991). Body figure perceptions and preferences among pre-adolescent children. International Journal of Eating Disorders, 199-208.
Mellin, L., McNutt, S., Hu, Y., Schreiber, G.B., Crawford, P., & Obarzanek, E. (1991). A longitudinal study of the dietary practices of black and white girls 9 and 10 years old at enrollment: The NHLBI growth and health study. Journal of Adolescent Health, 23-37.