#weightloss
And, try it!
Our new, tested, FDA approved, sharp,
weight loss injection! Or the pill!
Jump, run, play around more, for less of the cost!
Reduced body fat, reduced price!
Live like the true skinny person you are,
for only half the cost!
No personal change needed!
Just pop the pill, stab in your (fat) stomach,
and you'll be living like a leaf! ******
I'm on it, and I haven't needed to eat in
weeks! Because I'm recovered obese, now.
Drugs that make you feel less disgusting, fat, and immobile,
like you are now.
Because we're all so fat and nasty, just look at you!
Where would you be without our pill?
You NEED it to make sure you can run a mile, only on our pill.
Eat less, gain more muscle!
Less food in your body means?
More more exercise!
To get that size down, if you know what we mean!
If I'm not hungry, I'll be freed of hunger,
simple as that!
I have no self control and that makes me weak enough
to buy the pill.
To need the pill.
Still! You're fat, you're gross, everyone hates you,
nobody will love somebody who's not skin and bone and
never hungry for more.
Make a eating chart to make sure you don't starve to death.
We don't know how it works!
NOW
EAT LESS, LOVE LESS, LIVE LESS
All at a reduced cost
Because food is unnecessary if you want to be real!
And money only grows in our (not your) pockets!
May 24
May 24, 2026 at 2:45 PM UTC
Can you swallow hunger downwards
can you sleep it all away?
Work it out and calculate
revise and reshape
cursed and caged
by a body I cannot escape.
Another stone thrown across the river bed
another afternoon
without food.
I'm tired (so tired)
of this being the only thing
I cannot seem to lose.
Feb 27, 2025
Feb 27, 2025 at 1:59 AM UTC
What they never tell you about loosing weight
Is that you feel each piece leave
There is a tangible feeling of less protection
Maybe society is so afraid of fat because they know the truth
Fat people wear their armor 24/7
Sep 5, 2024
Sep 5, 2024 at 1:33 AM UTC
I used to go digging for my bones
to plant an açaí in the plot.
I used to go fishing for my bones
in a sea of plastic waste.
I used to go hunting for my bones
to eat and eat and eat and eat.
Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 7:22 PM UTC
I wanna hear my stomach collapse
Rumbling like screams echoing in an empty tavern
I want stalactite ribs
And stick-man fingers,
Thighs the size of a child’s wrist and
I don’t care what I have to do
To get it
I am obsessed.
Addicted to falling,
Falling numbers,
Falling deeper into disorder, disrepair,
Falling for a girl named Ana
Who tells me I can have everything that I want
For easy daily payments of pain and despair.
But, it feels oh so good to be hungry.
Aches and pains make me high,
And sure, it’s scary knowing I could die but
At this point…
Maybe I’d be okay with that if I get to live one day
At 100 pounds.
What is wrong with me?
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 10:19 AM UTC
So that box... Tucked away in the deepest corners of your garage or basement... You know the one... The "SOMEDAY BOX" The my fav jeans, dress, shirt box... SOMEDAY I will fit into this again... Why would I toss it out it's still good. SOMEDAY.... Today I cracked that box and put on an old fav pair of jeans ❤ SOMEDAY became TODAY
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 9:31 PM UTC
I seem to reward myself for bad behavior, and while others don’t understand it to be bad, it gnaws at me. Grows like a tumor, because even if an accident, or happenstance, I still seem to shrink, but not before my body rebels and solidifies into making me gorge on fiber until I lose the nerve and rush to other means. I’m not supposed to do it on purpose, not like Lori, and I hold myself back, convinced that my weight-loss is not an extension of my personality, but I cant help but admit I’m obsessed with the scale. Obsessed with an anti-me. My therapist doesn’t see the pattern, and maybe she is right, but I am too busy worrying about becoming obsessed that I have become obsessed with being obsessed. A hundred and seven pounds, and I have had to seriously fight to control myself not to create harm, and when my stomach doesn’t seem to want to let go of food after days, I can’t help but go to my medicine cabinet, find the laxative, and let my body suffer in such an embarassing way.
I watched Lori do it, and I swore I wouldn’t. But I am, even if for the sake of relief, of release. And I swear it’s not a habit, but that means nothing come every Monday when I have to be the beacon at the group weigh-ins, to mark some kind of false sense of hope for others. They call me an inspiration, and even if not intentional, I feel like I have been cheating.
My grandfather asks me every time I tell him about my weight-loss, “Are you sure you aren’t hurting yourself?” and I am reminded of the decades of humiliation he wrought upon me due to my obesity. What right does he have to ask of harm when he helped drive me to four hundred and more pounds? Maybe this is punishment for all the times his words cut deep enough to make me keep eating in anguish. Maybe I’ll just keep losing long after I hit my goal until there is nothing left– not even dust to be carried along with the wind.
Thoughts like that make me worry that it has evolved from lifestyle change to pure, unadulterated obsession. The kind I have seen time and time again.
My family has always been riddled with addicts.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
I walk by
"Here comes tiny"
My ears burn
"Wish I could wear those pants"
I hear the murmurs
"You're so skinny"
I hear the whispers
"Just skin and bones"
I should feel good, right?
"You should eat a burger"
I earned this long ago
"You're too bony"
I put the work in
"How about a bulk?"
But the reflection revolting
"I need to eat less"
Still a decade later
"I still need to lose more"
Why can't I just love my body
"I am such a disgust."
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
"God you look horrid
Do something about your weight"
I find it kind of funny
How you can hurl the exact same insult
Before and after I shed 100 pounds
Nov 22, 2017
Nov 22, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
Parched skin becomes moist
With dew drops dripping down the back of my neck
And beneath my *******
My face deepens like a ripe peach
As flesh disappears
Skin dissolves into
Nothing.
A cool exterior warms
And my body is tingling, trembling,
Buzzing like a thousand fire ants
Swarming around my thighs
My arms
My core
Encapsulated in sweat,
This shell is a temple
One that thrives on progress
I am *****
I am filthy
I am strong.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 10:47 AM UTC
I am in fourth grade--ten years old,
first period, first kiss, first full shave
from armpit to ankle.
The teacher pulls me aside--all smiles
and maternal excitement.
She tells me that my test scores put me
in the 98th percentile.
I **** my head, recalling the soft-lead, the
guarded pencil sharpener at the front of the room,
and the bullseye ovals that tested my mind,
my palm sweat, my straining eyes.
I am in fourth grade--ten years old,
first violent fight with my mother, first homosexual
fantasy, first dressing room meltdown.
The pediatrician pulls me aside--half austerity, half pity.
He tells me that I need three HPV shots, and by the way,
my weight puts me
in the 98th percentile.
My eyes sink back into my face, and the flood doesn’t come
until I am home, curled into my mother’s breast,
wondering how to divide my head into
Focused Student and Focused Starver.
I am in fourth grade--ten years old,
times tables and long division and calories
in an apple and calories burned in a playground brawl.
I learn to count my success in numbers and my failures
in grams, pounds, inches, threats
of fat camp, images of thick yellow fat
sandwiched between my organs.
I am in fourth grade--ten years old,
98th percentile and chewing and spitting and growing
and pinching the body that I cannot call my own--
and numbing the brain that matches the magnitude of my fullness.
I am a split-girl, a shame reservoir spilling
over and out and coating my paper with fractions and plans
of calculated disappearance.
I am in fourth grade--ten years old,
and the teacher’s clock doesn’t stop, and the and the doctor’s scale doesn’t pause
to make room for my magnitude.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 12:13 PM UTC
I am obsessed with becoming a woman who is comfortable in her own skin, I don't want to hate myself anymore
I will keep drinking zero calorie sparkling water and doing sit ups until my stomach aches and smiling through the painful runs
because **** it
its going to be worth it
I don't need the dinner roll
I don't need the candy
I just need to be proud of my body.
I am on a journey to being healthy, and it may be a little bit twisted but it will end good, I just know it.
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 12:10 AM UTC
The words ring in my ears like a bell
“She’s so fat I can’t even stand it”
The echo haunts me as I try and hide myself
I try to hunch over, **** in, take up as little space as possible
Become invisible
But I don’t want to be invisible, I don’t even want to be thin
I want to soar like a bird
Stretch my wings and feel the wind run through them like flowers in a field
I’ve been told that I’m too big before and I always assumed they meant in my stomach or my thighs
But really I think they just meant my mind
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 3:27 PM UTC
I knew I wanted to step on the scale
But my mind was screaming "don't"
Because that number only tells you
How much gravity is pushing down on you
Not how much you're worth
I stared at the wall
As my bare feet touched the cold surface
For once, I was strong and didn't want to see
A number that would break down
The very small wall of self esteem
I have been trying so hard to build
I prayed I would see nothing
Higher than a 4
Or else my day would be done for
I looked to the spot between my feet
As though I was looking into a crystal ball
And surprisingly, I liked what I saw
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC