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Smother Me.

I wrap myself in sizes too big because that’s how I see myself.

For surely if they see me this big,

When I reveal my true self it won’t be as bad.

I smother my hips, stomach, shape because

I can’t get past the fact that I hate myself.

Looking in the mirror makes me cringe.

That’s what I look like?

 

Why can’t I wear cloths in my size?

Why am I afraid to go into changing rooms?

It makes me want to scream when I walk away from a store, that my friends, sister, mother bring me into, so I can find my style.

I will stick with this t-shirt that costed a dollar.

 

They think it’s easy for me to walk away.

They believe I am being over dramatic.

But I can’t walk into a changing room without worrying if I really fit into anything.

I don’t want to disappoint them when it turns out I’m too fat.

Even if I do fit…

My skin feels like it’s showing too much.

“Watch out for those massive arms dot.”

Right. Thank you.

 

When will I love myself again?

Writing this made me feel semigood again.

With prom coming up and all my friends wanting to look for dresses,

I am terrified.

Petrified.

Mortified.

Horrified.

Every word that ends with “-fied!”

 

I will not cry in another changing room.

I will not cry.

I will.

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Written by
dorothy
22 / F / American
Published
Mar 28, 2015
Lines·Words
30·235
Tags
#feelings
Permission

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