Be gentle with her
for the words of others have never done much
but break her esteem.
Caress her undesirable sides,
her spirit breaking thighs,
her disappointing arms
as you would the body of a thin woman.
Be patient with her,
tell her she is beautiful
because for ages,
society, peers, family
have treated her as though she was a blemish of humanity.

Trace the stretch marks along her sides with care
for she is always doing the opposite.
Treat her body with the respect and tenderness
that she yearns for.
Be patient with her,
take her in, savour her, swallow her naked body whole.

Do not get grumpy with her when she pulls her shirt down
during the sweaty collision of your tongues
for she is only trying to comfort herself.
Be patient with her,
instead whisper ‘you are beautiful’ into her skin and
leave kisses of assurance on her stomach.

While she kisses you
let her search for motive.
Expose your good intentions.
She will dust your lips for other girl’s prints
for lack of understanding why you’d choose her.
Be patient with her. It is not your fault.
It is not that she does not trust you.
it is that her soul is laced with disbelief and apprehension.

Listen to her when she voices her worries out loud.
Listen as her voice shakes and she confides in you.
Reassure her, be patient with her.
Wrap your words around her;
create a blanket of trust to keep her warm.

I dropped more today.
From the gelatinous 180 last August
To my blubbery 156
I thought this would go faster.
She told me it would.

Emily is like this corpse, you see…
How they’re always on your mind, haunting.
Her ***** stained face, flashes, like a memory
“This is where you’ll end up. Just ******* wait.”

I’m not scared. I promise.
But I don’t trust her pretty.
Not completely.



UPDATE:

I tried to ignore the urge to throw up.
But now that I gained all of my weight back,
I'm throwing caution to the wind,
going to college and
starving this fat away.

I pledge 177 to plunge to 140 by Thanksgiving.

You may think it's funny.
Plain teasing.
Just girls having fun but you don't know.
You don't know what I've struggled with.
You weren't there all those nights when I cried myself to sleep because I was not thin like them.
All the times I would skip meals and tell my mom I had eaten elsewhere.
All the times I survived on water for the whole day.
All the times I came this close to sticking a finger down my throat and emptying the contents in my stomach.
It took me so long to feel okay and comfortable with myself.
Until you said that word.
It's funny how one word could have such an impact on me but you don't know my struggle.
When I got home after that, all I could see in the mirror was fats.
I had begun to determine my self worth by my calorie intake and the size of my waist.
I hated myself once again.

He was fat in the corner.
The walls stood straight to crest the ceiling in place.
The boy’s arches were eroded enough to roll him out his created abode.
But it stuck between the sharpness of its lines pin cushioned on his body.
It blocked its concrete sound.
It nailed his waist into the water of floor as if it was holding buoyancy.
The floor which was like an ocean hung his body to only sit and stay.  
This is where he would sit.
This is where he viewed his world.
With his Cable T.V., he viewed the world.
He became them in a sense of what they know.
Sometimes he was the sailor man saving the gal in the red turtleneck.
Sometimes he just wanted more than ****** snacks.
It was the static that came into it and the tremor of the popguns and bicycle punches.
His costume was the hand that drove into his pocket for yellow spheres of his personal favorite.

His fingers would unwrap the same world over and over again.
No matter how many copies.
They were in wrappers.
They were in silver lings of the stuff in what was known to stick and to sit on my palm like reflected sunsets.
These were in forgotten little notes to the odes of what was the turn of his tongue. He loved being sweet.
He loved to chew it ever so darling.
He crunched.
His mouth builds a castle.
To the eyes arrived in clouded visions coming from within.
As the teeth gnash off to the nectars and nips of sugar, butter, milk in *****, the crystals vanish.
They dazzled the eyes with images from the inside.
It was the way it took into him.
His cheeks became lambent as they were sagging off his face.  
In the motion was a peripheral point of the lips.
It would drag him into crave.
No more of waiting for it to melt.

The time was hung out to see the beat of his little heart.
He could have no more candy.
20 years later, he should have nothing more.
It was enough to make the scale rotate against zero.
But no one measured his content.
No one measured the happy in his heart.  
No one knew that what he wanted was just to taste the good.
He just wanted the tip of the tongue
To take him beyond a state of sitting and standing without really moving.
He wanted to walk on ice but float above its glass.
But he was going to die.
He would. He would eventually. They would say. Mother said.
Mother said this in her prim voice with all the promises of chocolate coated crisps in the world. He will choose to smile.
But here he is. He is still alive.
He is still rolling into the rears of his rounds.
He still loves what he is.
He still loves what he ate.
The choice of change is in his grip and so are his pockets.
They are still full of his old favorites.
He will take them when God takes him into his pockets.
He will be sweet.
He will be his own butterball.
He will be wrapped in what is 25 years.

100 pounds. And Mommy wants to raise me
She takes my plate
It floats from her hand
And falls down
Three drumsticks
Splat
It was all on the floor

Her voice
And I kept looking past her head
Because my eyes couldn’t face
Rage

So, no longer could I cook
To her, I needed discipline
One rod to set me off
To the sky and push my head against the ground
The fact was I am
Fat

Every supper, she took the bread.
The flour is mute in the edges. Its texture is soft on the tongue
There were always blue dolphins in my glass.
They wish to swim within an ocean
And I set them free
Because I didn’t want my stomach to be
Empty

How I describe myself.

Back fat.
Muffin top.
Flabby arms.
Thunder thighs.
Double chin.
Ugly.
Four rolls.
Worthless.
Jelly belly.
Gross.
FAT.

How others describe me.*

Funny.
Outgoing.
Warm.
Comforting.
FUN.

The list isn't nearly as long, now is it?

Drinking gone too far
Drunk fat girl you complete me
Wake up. That's a man

Icecream makes me fat,
I really like to eat cake,
I ate my parents.