As I plant myself in front of the mirror
I lift my shirt
And see what I've seen
For about as long as I can remember.
It's a stomach
Always has been.

But these tiny rolls
and squishy bits
have fluctuated
for many years
and I poke a ****
with a loving hand
a caress more than a stab

Yet you insist that I should hate my body

I love my mid section
I love the stretch marks on my thighs
I love the way my stomach
folds and plies
I love it all so much
And all of it is me
So why are you treating me like a sub-human being?

You say that you'd much rather
me having a drinking problem
than be fat
that's what you said
and you think I have a problem?

I'm 5' 1", at about 125.
You think it's "healthy" to have a low BMI.

Your method isn't working
I'm not dieting
No way
No weight watcher's for me
not ever
not today

If you think I should hate myself, Mom
I think you should just leave
Because I love my every fiber
I'm an exceptional human being
And you've overlooked so many facets of a life
And that beauty comes from within
And a couple pounds isn't going to change that
I don't need to be thin.