Every morning I check myself,
and every night too,
and sometimes after I ***
hiding in the shower stalls
under sterile florescent lights
I can see the fat,
how it hangs down my body and
melts off my chest,
a misshapen bag of
curdled yogurt,
yellow
If I pull my stomach in,
*******
straining
the lumpy muscle peeps through,
deformed and grotesque
And yet,
I cannot help but notice
how my ribs show through my chest,
stubbornly squeezing through the fat and
forcing the flesh to my hips,
refusing to comply.