“Oh god, have you seen yourself, lately?
You seem to have put on a little
Weight.“
Wait? Have I?
I didn’t notice.
“How could you not notice?
It’s in your face
Your thighs
Your belly
And your ass.“
Now that you’ve told me,
The fat enters my
Mind.
I’m fat.
Fat.
Fat.
Fat.
When did this happen?
What is this feeling?
That curve and bulge as I sit down,
Do they call it
Muffin top?
Sounds delicious.
But I’m not delicious.
Am I?
“No, you’re too big.
Big isn’t beautiful.
Big is too big to be beautiful.”
Wait.
Not so long ago,
Wasn’t I too thin?
“Yes, but now,
You’re too big.“
How do I win?
“You can’t.”
Am I being punished
For finally eating right?
For finally eating more?
For finally being
Normal?
“Ask your stretch marks,
Those lines that purple and crinkle your skin
Are they normal?
Ask that double chin that puffs up your face
Is that normal?
Ask the jeans that no longer fit
Is that normal?
Huh?
Is it?“
But it’s my body.
“It’s not healthy.”
But I work out.
“It’s not enough.“
But I’m eating vegetables and fruit and variety-
“That’s just not good enough.”
I’m just not good enough.
Not good enough.
Aren’t my curves sexy?
The celebrities, they have
These big asses and breasts and thighs
Don’t I look like them now?
“No.
How could you?
You can only be sexy if
Your waist and face are small,
Whilst the rest is
Big.
You can’t be big all over,
Silly.“
Silly me.
Should I chisel at my waist,
Crave up my face?
Squeeze and push until
I fit into your template?
Your stencil?
“No, lil fat girl, stop.
We don’t want your imperfections here.
Fat is all you can be.
When was the last time,
That you went to the gym?
Put yourself on display,
In front of those judgemental,
Well-sculpted muscle-heads?
Watch as they pose for
And remember that you don’t
Truly belong there.
Not really.
Because you’re breathless.
Breathless, sweaty, and red.
That’s not attractive.
No one wants to see that.
So, hide away.
And don’t come back again,
Until your clothes become,
A few sizes too small.
Until the scale reads
Zero.“
This poem was written in a stream of consciousness from my own feelings. Once I was too slim, now I’m being told I look too big. I feel stuck in a place where I can’t win. I am working on my body, keeping it fit and healthy. I’m eating better than I ever have, which has added to my weight gain.
I wanted to write this poem to show people that your body is yours regardless of its shape or size. As long as you’re healthy, or trying to be, it shouldn’t be your aim to try and impress other people or fit an ideal. Love yourself, always. And to those of you who are constantly judgemental or mean about those who have different bodies to you, shame on you.
S. R. Crawford 