If you’re new here
I don’t like my body
And I don’t know how many more ways I can say that
All I know is I haven’t found one that transforms me into a fairy
Haven’t found the magic words, that if I repeat three times fast and click my heels
Will melt away my visage
Make me ready for the ball

On nights like tonight,
When I really don’t like my body
I try to remember that the apples are poisoned
That taking a bite, instead of a dinner plate
Will not make me the fairest thing in the land
That running from big bad wolves
Is not about burning calories
That I shouldn’t look for big bad wolves to run from
Just to try and fit into a red cape

I don’t know how many ways to say
That I don’t like my body
That I feel fat,
Like my stomach has 7 little dwarves sleeping atop it  
Like if a prince found me in the woods, I would be the beast
Not the beauty he was looking for

So here I am,
The incompetent one in the Disney movie
While the heroines and heros are drawn impossibly small
Jasmine with her tiny waist,
Mulan in her slim figure
Elsa with her narrow shoulders
The incompetent ones,
Ursula, all darkness and big body above her tail
Russel, with his house of balloons and naivete
The Queen of Hearts, crazy off with your head woman
Even a fairy tale metaphor, can’t bibbity bobbity boo
Away my torn up relationship with my body
I guess these aren’t the magic words
I guess I don’t get magic words
Maybe I would,
If I was small enough to be the hero

left cup runneth over/

right cup half empty/

if I add my left cup size to my right cup size what will I get/ DD + D = DDD/I've never been great at math/but this is no/miscalculation/

I am 36 DD confined to a 36 D bra/

(D)Disgorges over the underwire/

D--you flaccid beach ball/I wish I could reinflate you/part my mouth around your ******/and/
breathe/

no one can tell/unless I wear a tight bodice/then/you are/obnoxiously evident/

I am afraid of introducing you to my future boyfriend/will he still want to undress me/will he still want to make love to me/

will he still want to touch you/

you/

sea urch/in/the palm of my hand/

even I am hesitant to hold you close to me/

you/

strangulated bagpipe/

moulting pompom/ B-O-O-B/
what's that spell/
what's that spel/
what's that spe/
what's that sp/
what's that s/
what's that/

what is that/

what/

who are you/

you/

waning gibbous/

my metaphors wane, also/it turns out there are only so many euphemisms that can be assigned to an/ill-proportioned breast/

itsy bitsy titsy/

you make me/

sad/

you/

teardrop defying the laws of gravity/

or/
is it the laws of gravity that defy the teardrop/so that it never falls into/
place/

I've noticed only/beautiful/things/
fall/

shooting stars/

autumn/

my left *****

Oh
to be the girl in those adverts ,
Light,
skinny,
beautiful
A tragic line
to every gentle rib
I fetishise her fragile fingers
A monstrous beast reflected in the mirror, the worst possibility.

Tis poetic, there she stares
Says her lines; remaining fair,
Into my face, My acting is heavy handed and awkward
She’s a consumable reality,
She’s easy on the eyes
The fragile female,
salvageable.

We are a tragedy of ages, her Juliet, I Faustus
They silently boo while I slop onto the stage
A lazy slob,The **** of society, just don’t eat you fat ****. men like curvy girls We don’t want to see you, You’re so brave!  You’re the problem, it’s not hard hide your mass from view, unkempt, repulsive, vile. hide yourself it offends my sharp eyes.
I open my drooling mouth to speak, but there are chins smothering my mouth
My eyes clouded by greasy cellulite
I don’t want to exist like this.

So just stop eating.


I’d give an arm and a leg,
my pale teeth,
my parasitic possibility
my child

I cried and cried
"I can't say it"
"Yes you can. Say: "I'm perfect"
I cried some more and tried to force the words to form in my mind.
"Say it!" He said once more, "Say it because you are perfect. Dont listen to yourself. You're lying to yourself."
Eyes squeezed shut, I forced out the words:
I am perfect.

It takes a lot out of a person to see their self worth after so many years of not believing it due to abuse. Mental, verbal, maybe even physical. It takes a lot to try and not lie through your teeth to someone who loves you, to admit, you are, in fact, perfect.

It takes a lot of a person to stand in front of the mirror and look at oneself. To look at the body your soul resides in and think "I am perfect" after years of being told that you're too this and you're too that.

So I implore you, believe that you are perfect. Cry if you must, but look at yourself, really look, and believe it when someone says that you are, in fact, perfect. That person would not love you otherwise. You are you, and they love you for that.

Scroll through the gram, read through a book,
Don’t know who I am, try not to look,
At a mirror, an image of the one I don’t want to see,
The scarred and bruised, broken picture that’s me.
Rather have seven years of bad luck
Than see that ugly face,
That I know I should embrace,
But time and time again
I close my eyes and try to pretend
That I’m a princess, an angel, the focus of a poem,
Where a man falls in love with the face that is shown
But that’s not me, that’s only – a fantasy,
And sadly, the reality,
Of it is this.
I compare myself to her, to them, to anyone and everyone.
See, I’m never half as pretty, never half as skinny, never half as lucky,
But that’s not true… is it?
According, to my reality, the way I see, the way I think,
It is.
This is my truth. This will be the death of me.
Can’t you see? This is my distorted reality.

When you look at me

I’m Looking at you

You tilt your head

I tilt it with you

Throwing your body back

Scatter the surface light

Onto your polished face

What are you inspecting?

I see you searching with your eyes

Overlooked imperfections

Overcooked in your mind

My purpose abused

Are you perfect today?

Are you good enough tonight?

Yes, she’s got eyes that are golden and lips that scream lust

She’s got a sharp, consuming beauty and a

Laugh that would make you smile for days.

She’s got a little waist and an hourglass figure

She turns heads and evokes whistles when she saunters

And darling I am not beautiful like her,

But I’ve got eyes that hold an ocean, weeping

Full and heavy with love and emotion

I’ve got a heart big enough to hold

All the pain in the universe, and a little more

I’ve got a smile that breaks hearts because

I find all the little reasons, to be happy

When I have all the reasons, to not.

I’ve got hands that mend the broken and

Tend to the lonely, arms that embrace the

Lost and unloved. I am not profound or gorgeous,

I don’t have her golden eyes or her lips,

I don’t have her hourglass figure or little waist

But I have a voice that speaks raw truth even when

I am shaking in fear of being seen, for me.

I have words that remedy melancholy and

Wipe tears without me extending a hand.

I am the last one crying at the movie,

I am the girl who stops to smell the roses

Just because they deserve to be appreciated

I am the woman who loves more than she loves

Herself, who gives you her strongest parts and settles with

Jagged shards of the ghost of who she once was,

I am fragile and iron-strong all at once,

And I am difficult to understand,

Impossible to figure out, and a

Challenge to love.

But I am not my flaws,

And I am lovable,

Whether you choose to, or not.