Girls like her would wait against the wall at home disco parties. They would watch the guy they like always picking up some other girl. Girls like her waited and waited and danced last, or didn't dance.
Girls like her were called fat, they were called ugly. Girls like her had no secret admirers, so they made up one of their own. Girls like her daydreamed on the way to school, on the way back home, at school and at church, because for girls like her reality was too hard.
Girls like her made far too many mistakes, they did all wrong, they said the wrong words, wrote the wrong texts, play the wrong games, red the wrong books. Girls like her were wrong!
Girls like her did love too, they loved and dreamed and cried at nights because girls like her were never loved back. They knew what love was, or so they thought; love was poems, holding hands, a teddy bear, a bunch of flowers or a single rose. Love was hearing "you look pretty" or "I'm so happy you're my girl". Love was giving it all, love was getting warmth, security, respect, friendship, kisses, hugs, and compliments in return. Oh yeah, girls like her knew all about love! Those kind of girls read Shakespeare and Bécquer, maybe Neruda and perhaps Storni, too. Girls like her knew what love was, but not what it felt like.
And girls like her grow up someday, and struggle and fight and things hardly go right. And they are still called ugly, they are still called fat. So women like her grow leather were there once was skin, and look up, unbreakable! But women like her still cry.