I wrote a song when I was fourteen
Declaring my downfall at forty,
I said I'd make sure every second
Is spent speeding towards my fate

I worked so hard to like myself,
To accept I didn't need to be thin,
To accept I didn't need to hate myself,
To learn to like my fat body for how it looks

I never wanted to do what my mom did,
I never wanted to force myself to run,
I never wanted to convince myself
All the things I like would hurt me

And now here we are - on a diet,
Diabetes - such a big word,
So I guess the rest of my life
Is waiting for my next meal

The rest of my life - no matter how long -
Will be unhappy, restricted, thin,
Disallowed to eat or accept my weight,
Living off of Lučina and fruit salads

Be professional, be collected,
Be calm, be unfazed -
Avoid, still, the assumptions
By not being upset

You'll be pretty someday,
You'll be worth looking at,
You'll be worth knowing,
You'll be worth nice clothes

Now that you're changing, at last,
You might as well begin to accept
You're not doing this for yourself -
So what does it matter how you feel?