The goal has always been skinny.
I thought fat was the only thing wrong with me.
There's so many people I told myself I'd lose weight for,
because in my mind, skinny makes them like you more.

Every time I wanted to cry at the dressing room reflection,
I felt that thigh chafing, muffin-topped imperfection.
I'd like to think I'm different, stronger now.
But I'm not. I'd like to stop caring, I don't know how.

At least I've learned if I do lose weight it shouldn't be for them, he, she
It should be for a happier and healthier me.