hunch your shoulders over
as to hide the rolls of sin on your back
and you'll grow like that
your shoulder blades will forget what birthright feels like
instead, you will mimic esmeralda's lover
and no other than your father
looks like the mountains in a landfill
better fill up your cup of self-esteem, girl
because you look like you don't love yourself
the mouth of the cave brings more disgraces to bear
stomach slouches painfully over belt
knees buckle when men pass but fast
better suck in that satanic gut
force a gap between your legs
as to mimic your healthier looking friends
arms slowly coming up to tug at shirt
a silent plea for it to not seep into the creases
what a dilapidated building
this pain dance has made of you
your friends will say: but you don't look that fat
they won't see how much gut it takes
for you to not take a knee to the bathroom floor
and a finger to your throat
your brother will say: but you’re the good kind of fat, shapely
as if there can be a good kind of an insult
wielded to dehumanize millions
your father will remind you of the how you're becoming a gargoyle
they won’t know the pop your chest bone makes
when you try to correct your posture
or how God is healing you
they won't know the automatic vacuum lodged in your stomach
how it still turns on sometimes when you think you’re being watched
none of them will know the Food Addicts Anonymous meeting
and how it plagued your soul
my life in fat girl instances:
8 – my uncles sit around and debate over whether my arms are baby fat that will fall away or my fate
9 – the doctor shows my mother a rainbow chart and tells her I am obese
11 – my aunt scolds me: if you don't like being fat then shut up and stop eating
13 – where were my parents?
14 – when I stole the uncooked hotdog from the fridge & swore I did not
15 – where was God to tell me I didn’t need food to feel alive?
16 – I black out at the dinner table and wonder where my food went.
18 – and fighting a cold war with pennies in my palms and mountains on my back catching my reflection in the glass of a vending machine
19 – the doctor shows me the same rainbow chart and tells me I am obese
with an attic full of names and explanations
but who is poised to listen?
for when you're a fat girl
you've failed at the most pressing agenda of a girl – to be pretty
to be eye candy and not eye soar
surely, you've disobeyed God
tearing apart his architecture
with your lack of self control
calling me beautiful so often
Only now I realize why she did that
she knew i'd be bombarded with bullets of hate
and was attempting to love me into a bullet proof vest
as a payer for a light season