I lived my 20s bare
Stripped myself of everything that suggested girlie
I believed I didn’t need to focus on being that kind of she
Being smarter, understanding the world, and my own identity and my contribution to it was more necessary
I denied my body of vanities and fed my mind with whatever I could find
I found too much, and they nearly drove me mad
The more I learned and knew
The more I felt stupid and below-the-line
I questioned conventional attitudes
And chose a strict way
To preserve the honor of my over-idealised mind
If people see what you have upstairs, they’ll regard you more
True and true
A smart woman is a jewel
But smartness is never enough for a woman
I’m 30, and the quest never seems to end
And a day comes when I look at my laurels
They had become cobwebs under which I struggled to feel like a woman
I mourned the death of my girlhood and swore to myself that here out, I’d choose differently
I’ll learn how to be a girl, a woman, a belle
A wonder in skirt
A pretty sweet thing
To put my money on that dress and look my absolute
To make my hair as I should, even if I spend a great deal to keep up
To pamper my skin
And do things my mother never did
Because what’s the use of being so sound upstairs when you can’t walk in the presence of majesties
A person’s mind is as beautiful as the carriage of their presence
So, whether a girl needs to prove she’s more than meets the eyes, a girl’s got to meet the eyes
And like my great teachers would say, the logic must balance the magic
Girl, I’m staying true to both masters
A pretty thing in skirt.