' You getting fat. '

Seemed so effortless,
the way in which those words floated off their tongues, and seeped through the opening of their lips.

Only to leave me feeling like a broken mirror.
               S
                  h
                      a t
                              t     e
                                         r
                                                e      d.

It became a melody within my mind.
A song containing the content of bad lyrics, with no warning of parental advisory.
(Because honestly, the mirror spoke more words than momma's mouth ever could.)

' You getting fat. '

If there was any hope for me ever finding ways around that phrase.  
It would be that I was,

getting there.

Not that I had,  

arrived.