My ode to shorts---
We look like fat dorks,
When it's not so cold,
Even if we're so old,
Can't hide varicose veins,
Old age doesn't go away,
We know we look dorby,
We're all well past forty,
Summer's so **** hot,
This heat's a bit of a shock,
We all know we're fat dorks,
Has anyone really thought
We'd look good in shorts?

It takes more heart to stand up to the "fire"
When it threatens the very life of your loved ones,
Than it takes to hand some guy easy money
And then go off and help yourself to rich freedumbs.

I ate a whole thing of oreos in front of you,
and then,
*I ate another.

skin gets thicker
eyes get wearier
covered with fats,
a sight gets glitter

a bad breath, a good breath
i don’t care
a good man, a bad man
i know it’s fake

dancing with the time as a carnivoran
dancing with the time as a carnivoran

arms wrapped around my
waist feeling more like a chain link
fence I could not
jump reminding me of the
christmas my entire
family bought me boxes and boxes of
rulers to see if i measured up to their standard of
beauty of what a young woman should
weigh but personally I've liked feeling like an oversized bag of
sugar when everyone else is withering away to
nothing to the sound of your voice when I say it on a windy
day see I can keep you right
here if we're still in love in
winter and you get
cold at night you can go right
here in the folds of my
love if you get cold if you get
cold see I have so much to
give the truth is I never really gave a
**** about you but you were the only
person who could embrace
me without making some sort of
joke and I've never had a history of
humour

I’m sick of having to put a caveat on my weight.
It’s the asterisk that follows my body
that I can never seem to get rid of.
It says "Caution:
she may be beautiful and witty and smart
but her worth is negated by the size of her waistline."
I write that I am a large person in my online dating profile,
as if it were a trigger warning for men that otherwise might find me
Beautiful.
I don’t want to catch them off guard
I want to at least give them
the courtesy of knowing
that there is more to me then what will ever fit
on a 16 inch computer screen.
At least if I am the one to say it,
To judge my own worth,
I won’t be the punch line of their jokes.
Their blows won't land if I refuse
to step into the ring.
Even this though is dishonest.
If I were to really put myself out there,
My profile picture would be of my belly
Of my stretch marks,
Of the half moon curves of my stomach
that rest above my hips.
But I’m not sure that I’m ready to look,
to Honestly look
at myself for that long.
I used to avoid nakedness.
I hated being on top whenever I made love.
And I was always so aware
Of how malleable I really am.
I am soft of body and of heart
But now I like to think that means
That it's easier to melt into other people
To connect and hold and treasure and comfort
All at once.
There may be more of me
but there is more of me to give
After all, what is an asterisk but a star?

Before a big party,
I would show my mother my outfits, for her approval.
"**** your stomach in," she'd say.
I'd inhale deeply and reduce the space I took up.
"Beautiful." She'd beam at me.
Eight years later, I look in the mirror.
"**** your stomach in," I tell myself.
"Beautiful."

Nobody knows
They can't tell my pain
They can't see my tears
They won't feel my hunger
They won't notice until I fade away

Excuses.
My life is built on them
Excuses and lies.
My mind is full
Yet my stomach is not

Who would know?
That happy girl,
That chubby, happy girl
She's crying inside
There's a disease in her mind
She's struggling
I'm struggling.

I'm too far gone