Social media gives every Tom, **** and Harry their five minutes of fame within the confines of an add comment box.

Jovial conversing soon turns sour with the input of a keyboard warrior friend of a friend.

I don't do fat girls.

Meant in jest or to offend, no matter the reasoning, this earring wearing stranger, touched a nerve, a past, my past.

Snidey comments, moments of horror and dispair, that seemingly had disappeared, in that moment haunt me.

I'm the victim again, disgusted by own flesh and gluttony, pulling layer upon layer of darkness upon myself to cover up the rolls.

Shaken from my recollection, i hear the ringing of compliments within my ears, the eyes of a loved ones gazing upon my naked flesh in awe, at its beauty, I smile.

We've come far, this body and I, and although it may not be everyone's cup of tea, it'll do for me, and that's all that matters.