i want to crawl out of my skin,
out of my body,
and leave it all behind.

farewell to the flaws,
to the walls,
that have kept me so confined.

This wasn’t the first time that she had felt suffocated
by skinny girls and standards of beauty.
It got like this every winter,
feeling the heavy layers
weighing her body down.

She never felt comfortable in the sweater and boots,
socks and coats that she bundled up in.
She liked light clothes,
clothes that fairies would wear,
or angels.

Even in summer,
bracelets felt like shackles,
trying to pull her down to earth.
Socks and shoes and pants,
dragging her down.

Coats and hats and mittens,
tethering her in place.
If it was just her
in a sundress and bare feet,
she turned into some sort of ethereal being.

She was like dandelion fuzz floating on the wind.
But the sweaters held her together,
the way that stars and fireworks and splashes of water
should never be bound together
but let explode.

Because some things are only beautiful
if they are coming apart.
And she came apart in wisps
flowing up like smoke
and smelling like lilacs in spring.

The time of the year where
it's too hot for long pants,
But I am fat and a cutter
so.. I can't wear shorts..

It hurts so much to eat
Then it hurts so much to stop
One or the other
Which will it be?

As of now I'm 150 pounds
This is considered "overweight"
I want to be skinny so bad
But only so others can see

In hopes that they'll help me...

The fat friend
The ugly sister
The dumb classmate
The second choice
That depressed girl
The hated child
The *****
The ugly duckling
The girl that will
never be good enough..

I look at myself and don't like what I see. My disgusting body stares back at me.
I try different things to make me a little thinner. Like purging myself or skipping my dinner.
The voice inside my head tells me I'll never be beautiful unless I'm thin,
so I start counting calories until I feel attractive in my own skin.
Every food I eat is no longer tasteful. It's just more calories entering my body and makes me feel shameful.
I hope to someday to be the thin girl hiding underneath my fat. The girl that can touch her stomach and it would be flat.

Maybe I'll always be fat,
I take after my Dad, that's that,
Must accept that I am fat,
Fat, fat, fat, fat, fat,
That's what Moomba in Melbourne means, you cats,
"Let's get together and laugh at the fat!"
Obesity looms,
A voice of doom,
I'll eat chocolate soon,
Must accept that I am fat,
That's about all about that!

Let me tell you about how I run
There are a couple of ways but none of them are fun.

There's a "move the **** out of my way" kind of run
Shot at by some man with a gun
Running over old ladies and children
To get the hell out and save my own skin
Kind of run...

And there's the "cliche blonde running through my head all day"
Where I don't get exercise, but she seems to sweat away
The pounds of brains until I'm dumbfoundedly dumb
And I find myself passed out on the couch with a bottle of ***
And a headache that makes me want to blow my brains out
Cause I can't get some Aspirin and a good woman to ******* out
Kind of run...

And there's the angsty little man that runs from home
Fighting his abusive dad and his best friend "hormone"
When he gets a kick in the nuts named reality
and a left hook to the face named puberty
by Mike Tyson riding a bison
Who leans over and whispers "you lost the fight son"
Kind of run...

Then there are the times when I run my fingers over the typewriter
Making more mistakes than a single stared wasted waiter
Running my imagination that nobody wants to hear on a page
A ******* that nobody will ever notice on stage
Lost in cut out hearts and origami cranes
and on washed out newspapers on old broken trains
kind of run...

However, there is a time when I actually get off my *** to run
But It hurts cause I'm a beached walrus with my *** in the sun
Flopping on land and trying to swim through concrete
Unable to see that I have 2 feet
cause there are 2 feet of fat that is constricting my view
Of who I am and what I'm really able to do
Kind of run...


And this is the part of the poem when I run away to Spain
Clearly, I can’t run that far so I guess I’ll take a plane
And I’ll bring the beautiful blonde with me in a first class spa
And I’ll walk into Spain saying “Su casa es mi Casa
But it will never be the other way around
Cause if I see you on my property you’ll be six feet underground
Kind of run...

Let's talk about this.
Because I feel like I'm about to fall into that deep abyss.
Again.
So, let's listen to me then.
I want this to end.
You keep on talking about my weight.
I'm sure you do this, to motivate.
I know I'm ugly because I'm fat.
I know you all have been thinking that.
"Your shirt is looking a little tight."
"I'm sure you have a big appetite."
"Here I bought you a shirt that's 3 times the size you actually are!"
"You have a two piece swimsuit?! That's bizarre!"
Just leave me alone!
I get it, I've grown!
We are all going to die.
So why do you care so much about my BMI!?