Mirror Talk

I dress like a question and hope the answer is yes. Why do I so desperately crave male approval over my body? No hands have hurt me. No memory gnaws at tue back of my mind. There is no monster under this bed only me, smoothing the sheets before I lie down pretty. I wasn't taught to sell myself but I learned anyway, from glances, from silence, from the way praise always came after I showed skin. They say love yourself first, but what if I only feel real when someone else wants to touch me? sometimes I wonder Who ide be if I stopped shaping myself into what I think they want. And sometimes I almost do. But then I pull the shirt down lower and keep walking. Why do I always feel the need to sexualise myself.