When did it become instinct to **** in my stomach when I speak
As if my words were something that needed to be contained
And my body ashamed
When did I start believing that being curvaceous
Meant I couldn't be vivacious
That I needed to hide
And lose my pride
As if my weight defined
Who I could be
And my tummy would remind
That that everyone could see
My imperfections
These are my confessions
I am self aware
I care
About others judgements
And the way that I am perceived
So I try to make adjustments
Yet I never succeed