Fat fat but nobody knows
Fat fat it doesn't really show
Fat fat like nobody cares
Fat fat baggy clothes she wears
Fat fat but she's always cold
Fat fat her excuses are old
Fat fat she starts to cry
Fat fat her monstrous thighs
Fat fat say something nice
Fat fat give some advice
Fat fat just be kind
Fat fat change her mind
Fat fat?

Fat, fat, fat.
All I see is fat.
I am the "chunkiest", the "chubbiest", the "roundest" and the "ugly pig".
I might as well be a rat, the biggest of the big.

Fat, fat, fat,
All I see is fat.
I am "just right", "average", "normal" or "perfect size."
They lie every single time, and hell, just 'like that'.

Fat, fat, fat,
All I see is fat.
I am "too skinny!", "I wish I looked like you", "wow! Size zero jeans?!" and "underweight".
Yet, I refuse to touch this cold, stocked plate.

Fat, fat, fat,
All I see is fat.
I am "awful", "dying", Miss "eat something" and "throne of bones".
Yet, this body will never be my souls rightful home.

Fat, fat, fat.
All I ever will be is fat.
Even in a long gown and stuck to the end of an I.V pole,
With doctors and psychatrists and loved ones crying and begging me to just "recover, please come home!"

I am still fat.


The hospital bed is empty,
My bed is left untouched,
There is a silence as the wearers in black all sob and stare silently at the body in the ground.
Devasted and hushed...

I see them, but can no longer speak.
No longer able to feel, no longer live,
Forced to watch time pass and hearts mourn...
Their days now heartbroken and bleak.

My  best friend doesn't speak, she now sits alone,
My mother sobs every night, family reminded
so often of my presence,
The one who secrelty loved me has loved no more,
Even my pets still wait outside my door.

Those who knew me, only can remember me in the things left behind,
Even the sun itself rarely shines.


Dead, lost, gone.
I am no longer fat,
But I also no longer- belong.

I'm fat because my first boyfriend in seventh grade broke up with me for another girl and called me a fat ugly ***** over and over.
I'm fat because my best friend joined in and wouldn't lend me his jacket when I was cold because he'd rather give it to another girl because she was skinnier.
I'm fat because I'm too lazy to work out since depression hit.
I'm fat because I stress eat and have a bad sweet tooth.
I'm fat because my last ex wouldn't disagree when I asked him if I was fat.
I'm fat because he wouldn't let me eat.
I'm fat because he would see the plate of food and dramatically say, again?
I'm fat because I carved it into my stomach.
I'm fat because I have horrible mood swings and panic attacks and had to be put on antidepressants and birth control.
I'm fat because I don't look in the mirror anymore unless it's above my chest.
I'm fat because that's what I think everyone whispers when I'm not looking because I'm an anxious paranoid freak.
I'm fat because my parents say I shouldn't eat this or that.
I'm fat because I can't fit in my old pair of jeans.
I'm fat because I've always been scared to wear a bikini, now I refuse.
I'm fat because my mom says tells me she is fat, when she weighs less than me already.
I'm fat because no guys will look at me anymore.
I'm fat and I don't know what to do anymore.

out on the road,
driving right along,
comin' to a stop,
at the head of the line,
right at the light.

i look up,
and what do i see,
but a
Big Fat Yellow face
starin' back at me.

taken aback,
reminds me,
you see,
of one
big fat bus
with a big fat yellow bootay,
only just slightly differently.

i start lookin' around
and what do i see
but a whole
bunch
of big fat yellow faces
starin' back at me.

studyin'  big fat yellow face
of bus number
eight five nine,
i begin see a difference
or two.

Some big fat yellow faces
are flat,
hardly a nose
on 'em.

Some big fat yellow faces
have quite the
shnoz on 'em,
wouldn't Jimmy Durante
be oh, so, proud.

quite an education
in just the cycle of
only one light.

it turns green,
to left i turn.

one big fat yellow face
one big fat yellow bootay

two big fat yellow faces
two big fat yellow bootays

three big fat yellow faces
three big fat yellow bootays

four big fat yellow faces
four big fat yellow bootays.

racing by so quick,
lickety split.

so how do i know,
know for sure,
that God really exists,
and even more,
that she really loves me?

if there were no God
and if she didn't love me,
i'd be starin' at all these
big fat yellow bootays
through the
front of the windshield,

instead of seeing 'em
flying into the distance
when take i a quick glance
into my REAR view mirror!

i do love the look,
of a,
Big Fat Yellow Bootay
starin' at me
from my rear view mirror,
in the mornin'!

hey, hey, hey,
just another fine day!
whadda say!

fat kid, oh fat jkid, oh where are you fat kid


i am really fat kid, full of muscles ya see

i love cream buns, ****** oath i am a big big big big man

what do ya think about that, puny little cool kid

i love my beautiful spring rolls as well as a coca cola to wash it down with

that is mighty fine, oh yeah

and the kids went up to me, and said fat kid fat kid fat kid, you are a fat kid

i said, i am not a kid, for i am an adult, who lives life like it’s one big adventure after the next

as i said, i am known as the fat kid, the really big fat kid

i love spring rolls, cream buns, and a coca cola

and i love lamingtons, as well, and i love meat pies and sausage rolls

which makes me a real australian *****, ****

and a custard ****, i can lick the fat right off  that

and the voice came from out of the blue

fat kid fat kid, you are a fat kid, and another voice says

your not an adult, adults are cool, and i said, i am cool on the computer, ****

and then i said, i am so an adult, a creative adult, a good fooler\

i try to be a cool kid, to gain protection, but reality i am a cool adult

and i don’t appreciate being treated like a fat kid

i am a cool adult who loves to PARTY

an adult PARTY dude so to speak

meanwhile,

the Big Fat Yellow Bootay
was getting right tired of
waiting for the election to end.

so,

she set off down the highway
going ninety five...

"HOKEEEY POKEEEY!" she cried
as she gunned the engine and
threw herself in gear.

"HOKEEEY POKEEEY!  MOTHER *******!"
twice she cried,
"HOKEEEY POKEEEY!  MOTHER *******!"
this second time
for extra good luck
with the unfolding election.

cool Fall breeze caressed
her yellow metal,
her big fat yellow bootay,
a glorious day to
be out on a drive!

well, except where she had
come from.

beep beep
beep beep
always driving her
beep beep beeping insane!

it shore nuf was quiet
out this way!

she turned the shiny
silver dial to turn on the
radio.
'gonna have to get me
some better speakers
one day soon.' she thought
to her big fat bus self.

and what came out blasting?

"That's Alright Mama,"
by who else?
but the King!
Elvis!

Elvis has left the building
and now,
Elvis is ON THE BUS!

she didn't quite know all
of the words,
but what the ****,
she sure could sing!

As the big fat bus
with the big fat bootay
was driving along,
singing joyfully,
she glanced in the rear
view mirrow and what
did she see?

why the ghost of Elvis himself
was sitting right there
right in the back of the bus.

He starts strumming on his
own guitar and singing,
'that's alright mama.."

so she turned off the
radio to listen
to the ghost of
the King,
Elvis,
himself,
singing in the back
of her big fat yellow bootay!

she also watched him eating
a lot of food
in the back of the bus,
her bus.

his ghostly figure
seemed to
fluctuate between fat Elvis,
and skinny Elvis,
like a seesaw.

by and by
says he,

(not the really fat one
but not the really skinny one
neither.)

'I need a pit stop.'
says the King

so the big fat bus,
with the big fat yellow bootay,
asks,
asks she,
'you wanna stop at the next
stop & go,
or
the next
fizz & wizz,
or
my fav if you really
need a constitutional,
the stop & plop?'

at this particular junction in time
this ghostly King,
was in the shape
of Fat Elvis
but very cooly outfitted,
bellbottoms and rhine stones
or were those all diamonds?

note to self,
the big fat bus
squirreled away,
check on that.
are those real or not?
more mulha is always
good
and this just might
be mana from heaven
in the form of Elvis the KING
himself
and maybe just one
of those diamonds
will fall out and
get lost in me.'

mighty strange happenings
going on around here in this
big fat bus
with the big fat yellow bootay.

' the stop and plop little mama,' elvis replied
with that
ohhhh,
soooooo,
divine Elvis drawl
and that darling little
thing he did with his mouth,
but was doing now
as he was sitting there in the
back of HER big fat bus
with HER big fat yellow bootay!

OH MY,
it really is a
HOKEY POKEY day!  she sighed.....

When your best friend calls you fat
You don’t let her see how much it affects you.
When your best friend calls you fat
You starve yourself until you pass out.
When your best friend calls you fat
You say, “Everyone needs a fat best friend.”
When your best friend calls you fat
You run until your legs give out.
When your best friend calls you fat
You cry yourself to sleep every night.
When your best friend calls you fat
You binge eat to make yourself feel better.
When your best friend calls you fat
You start to believe her.
When your best friend calls you fat
You begin to hate yourself.
When your best friend calls you fat
You want to hate her more than you hate yourself.
When your best friend calls you fat
You wonder how she could do that to you.
When your best friend calls you fat
You can’t help but be glad she tells you the truth.
When your best friend calls you fat
You only see how disgusting you are.
When your best friend calls you fat
You limit everything you eat and count every calorie.
When your best friend calls you fat
You overcompensate for all your shortcomings.
When your best friend calls you fat
You never forgive her.

Fat arses are so squeezable, big bums I rather like
So amplify your cellulite, and step up to my mic
Pins may shake and quiver, if I can score a strike
A Fat **** has more stability, to park my mountain bike

You may prefer a slender girl, with a bottom that is sleek
And fatter girls are not for you, or not what you would seek
Some little arses can be cute, but I want that extra cheek
I need some chunky piece of ****, to reach my ****** peak

I don't want a boney lass, who wears a leather mini
A larger girl I'd rather have, than a woman that is skinny
Imagine a great big ****, bulging out from a tight pinny
Bear arses are acceptable, just look at that Pooh Winnie

Size twenty dress would be fine, but better times by four
With Something to grab hold of, that would thrill me even more
Bigger bums and fatter thighs, that take up the whole floor
Squelching fat I would enjoy, I don't want a thin girl cure

Thin sticks maybe preferable, those girls shaped like a rake
Stupid ****** I don't want, or **** that could be fake
Fat ladies have more bounce, and they will never brake
I don't mind some extra skin, that's sweating like Swan Lake

Larger woman are more fun, they have a wetter gape
There's more to love per square inch, WOW what a body shape
Smother me with all you've got, a complete body ****
I wouldn't be like Steve McQueen, and try The Great Escape

I'm interested in BIG thrills, but I don't want silk or lace
It's certainly a worthwhile trip, if it's shoved in the right place
Delving into the unknown, well I'm not sure that's the case
You know exactly what you'll get, with fat arses in your face

A nice thin *** is okay, but sometimes they're quite drab
Even if your figure's slim, I'd want more **** to grab
I'd rather have a bit more fat, which includes dimples and flab
If your offering your fat ****, call me a mini cab

Excursions during twilight hours, to avoid the daylight sun
I prefer to be in stealth, I'll be on the midnight run
It doesn't matter how large you are, even if you weight a ton
Fat arses I will always grab, now wouldn't that be fun

There's nothing wrong with pertness, so this I will announce
But doesn't a nice fat ****, have extra pounds per ounce
With more to grab and more to squeeze, and definitely more bounce
Big cats scratching for more meat, will always make me pounce

If you are not good looking, and you look like a pig
I'll forgo your outward looks, as long as you are big
Bare your *** in front of me, and give me the gig
You can reach your Top Gear, with a helmet like the Stig

With a *** like the Grand Canyon, I wouldn't want to pass
Mammoth mountains of pure fun, as i lay in the grass
A women laid across the world, with a big fat ****
I'd try extreme obesity, if it's open wide and sparse

So take advantage of me, and let your **** end loose
I'm a man who likes em big, without being too obtuse
Use your fat for basting, and I'll give your **** a goose
We could do well with a good game, according to old Bruce

You may like slimmer ladies, but come on now you gents
A bums a *** after all, so stop sitting in the fence
If you would try a fatter ****, you wouldn't be so tense
Don't be a ******* plonker, you know that it makes sense

Thinner lovers may change their mind, and not think fat is vile
It's just a different point of view, depends on your own style
For that deeper piece of crack, I'd go that extra mile
I don't think a fatter ****, is bottom of the pile

Maybe you don't share my views, but there's something I can teach
A plumper *** would be great, that is within your reach
Succulent cheeks that you can grasp, your hands could have one each
Even James gave it a go, because he had a Giant peach

The perspective of a chunky ****, an amazing smile and crack
That's the exciting view you'll get, when your stood round the back
Its great to feel you way around, when everything's pitch black
You'll find it an experience, if you are right on track

A nice *** I wouldn't mind, so come on where's your *****
Bigger cheeks I can't resist, theres no need to get me drunk
I wonder if the girl next door, has some lovely feeling chunk
Enticement is my spice of life, cos I'm not a ******* monk

To like a larger lady, well It's not classed as a sin
Shallow men may only like, a girl that's really thin
Just because our clientele, are not shaped like a pin
Fatter girls have twice to give, it's like loving the same twin

Some fellows might think I'm blind, and need a pair of glasses
You can leave the lights on, cos I don't think fat is classless
Flash your **** at the back door, and you won't get any passes
Tables and sofa's can be used, to display your great fat arses

A fat girl's Thanksgiving is being told to pass on the pumpkin pie
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is being scrutinized over everything you ingest
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is being met with questions no matter what you eat or don't eat
"Have some more potatoes, Sarah"
"Haven't you had enough yet?"
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is a double standard wrapped up
In a pretty floral bow
Just like the cornucopia in the table's center.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is a broken tradition fixated not on giving thanks
But on her every movement in regards to her plate
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is only eating half her helping
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is throwing up each and every bite of it
Into a porcelain garbage bin exactly thirteen minutes later
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is perfecting a purge
Stand up and lean
Time it just right
Dry heave first.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is the second to last time she sees her grandpa
And she cannot even focus on family
Because this disease has intertwined itself into the crevices of her mind
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is her worst nightmare and her favorite holiday
For she is constantly under surveillance
But no one questions her habits that day
So she is free to be sick as often as she likes.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is counting every calorie
Knowing exactly how much she needs to compensate for every particle of food
Polluting her system.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is shoving things into her body
And immediately wanting them out
While having the means to get rid of them.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving has always been shared with her alter ego,
Bulimia.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving has always been a paradox
Hopefully this year she will be able to go alone.

Fat people canes
  They buckle and break
Fat people canes
  They smell faintly of steak
Fat people canes
  Always arched
Fat people canes
  Holding up the heavily starched
Fat people canes
  Struggle down the street
Fat people canes
  An aid for battered feet
Fat people canes  
  Support poorly distributed weight
Fat people canes
  Caught within a sewer grate
Fat people canes
  Can't handle the load
Fat people canes
  Easing movements slowed
Fat people canes
  Used to skewer crumbs
Fat people canes
  Used to butter buns
Fat people canes
  Prop for a hefty handicap
Fat people canes
  Can't fit within a taxi-cab
Fat people canes
  Deserve a wage
Fat people canes
  Traded in for a Rascal with age

Fat people have no heads.
They end at the shoulders,
they are clipped off at the neck.
Never talk to fat people.
You may talk to an expert,
to a dietitian or a doctor
but never to a real live fat person
because fat people have no heads.

Use the word Epidemic
at least once, especially
if children are involved.
Children are always involved,
so use the word Epidemic
at least once. Fat children
still have heads, usually;
only fat adults must be
d e c a p i t a t e d.

Because he still has his head
you may talk to a fat child,
especially if you offer him
a box of chicken nuggets.
Entice him to say Alarming Things
with a box of chicken nuggets.

After the word Epidemic
segue from concerned anchorwoman
to stock footage of fat headless girl
browsing the racks at J.C. Penny’s.
Segue to fat headless mom
walking with her fat headless son
on a sidewalk populated by
fat headless pedestrians.
Voice-over Alarming Things
about fat headless people
not getting enough exercise
and segue to fat headless man
stuffing his fingers into a box
of McDonald’s french fries.
Fat people eat only McDonald’s
french fries and we will be right
back with more on this story
after a word from our sponsors.

Cue McDonald’s theme song.
Pretty people Golden Arches
laughing with their heads
as they eat McDonald’s french fries
with their heads
and never gain a pound.

"i ain't got no fat bootay.
i am just a little husky."
she said to me.
that big fat bus with the big fat yellow bootay.

"i'm a thinkin'
i'm gittin' REAL tired
of all your verse."
said she.

"you should live the life i do.
yes you should.
just for one day.
grubby little kids kicking the back of my seats,
hanging out the windows
screaming so loud.

"crying and punching
throwing each other's gear.
boxing an ear.

"picking and fightin'
and bullying every year.
wet boots and sand
poking me in the tummy
with their little stupid umbrellas.
wiping snot on my clean seats.

those high schoolers
smoking in back,
tobacco and joints
and drinking & stuff
thinking i don't know it.

well the he-ing and she-ing,
on trips, to games and more,
i won't go into here.
what do they think i am?
a rolling motel
hotel
super 6?

it's enough to drive me right
out of my mind here.

"i used to be shiny and bright and new,
and i was so happy
to finally get out on the town.
then i realized for what i was made
year after year,
driving around,
the very same trip
all over town.
more than enough
to drive anyone insane.

"if i had wrists,
i assure you i'd slit em',
for you can never imagine,
what is it like,
to be me."
says that big fat bus with the big fat yellow bootay.

okay so now... i'm starting to feel
just a little bad,
all the mad verse
i hurled
at her
all of those days.

so i say,
to that big fat bus,
with the big fat yellow bootay,
"why wait around?
set yourself free,
before you end up in the big fat bus
cemetery!

now in some other time,
in some other life,
i start to see,
i could see ,
the possibility,
of what good friends
we could have been.

i would have waxed her
well, brightened her up
shined up the grill
made those white walls sparkle.

i coulda detailed her
inside and out.
checked her oil
and tweaked those points
making sure those
spark plugs would light.

rotated her tires and
lubed all her joints.
windexed her glass
front, side and back.

so now
still feeling a little bad
i say,
to that big little-husky bus
with the big little-husky yellow bootay,
"go single,
go solo,
but GO NOW!"

taking my advice to heart,
that big fat bus,
with her big fat yellow bootay,

she discharged that last child,
and driver so worn,
and bided her time,
till well after dark.

she took a quick,
furtive look around,
stealthily rolled  
out of the yard.

once a safe distance away,
set her engine in gear,
and got right the hell
out of here.
right away.

flying down the open roads,
careening around every
sharp curve,
every bend.
tipped on her side,
tires right up off the ground.

shrieking like a madwoman

"it's a good day to die!
i'm finally free!"

"It's a good day to die! mother f-ers" she cried
as she sped down the road.

until,

HEY?
HEEEEYYY?
What's THAT in my way?

OH NO!
it's a BIG FAT BUS !
with a BIG FAT YELLOW BOOTAY!
and it's in MY WAY!

...brakes stomped through the floor with all her might,
smoking tires and squealing rubber, and skidding down the highway,
way out of control...

more to come ...Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay

i actually blame the outbreak of dementia in western society as sourced within a fat-free diet... you need to ingest fat! for ****'s sake! the brain is primarily fat! how can you just simply overdose on sugars?! sugar is like crack-******* compared to more complex sugars, i.e. carbohydrates! how can you do this to your own people?! smalec / lard... with pork trimmings and garlic (czosnek / ch)... how can western society "think" it has the upper-hand in the argument, when it pushes out fat-free yogurt?! the brain needs fat, it's fat... you need to ingest fat! point is: people in the west don't know how rare dementia is in "eastern" europe... avocado on toast? what's the problem with you? it's supposed to be guacamole! or at least eaten with a trickle of lemon juice with spicy food! retards... retards! you need to ingest fat... giving your body too much sugar makes you: either fat... or absolutely dumb... demented... dementia... eh, see the correlation? you need to ingest fat, simple as: your brain isn't a muscle, the argument: oh, we need to flex our cognitive muscle... what the **** is this? what sort of argument is this?! it's fat, it's probably once fat, twice jelly... in a city of about 60 thousand i've known only one example of alzheimer's... my auntie... sure, it's a dementia epidemic: because you're draining all the fat out of the foods that should have it!!! fat feeds the brain, since the brain is primarily fat... ****** dodo started speaking: woah abouh the omega-3 arguments? dunno... you catch the sardines and the mackerels. dunno(h)... i once knew this ****** that spent his days ripping newspapers... he could rip a newspaper better than i could cut it up with a pair of scissors... you know the scottish patent? you fold a piece of paper, lick the edge, then you fold it in the opposite fold, and lick the edge once more... and then the paper tears away as smoothly as melting butter on a hot piece of toast... but this ****** could tear pieces of newspaper in one smooth stroke... apparently typing these "offensive" words in a country of inbreds is "offensive"... i think i'll just call her: katherine die neu blut middleton... hardly a mary, but the blood matters, nonetheless.

8 6 9 4 1 7 3 2 5
5 3 *4 8 2 6 7 1 9
1 2 7 5 3 9 8 4 6
6 1 8 9 4 5 2 7 3
7 4 3 2 6 1 9 5 8
2 9 5 3 7 8 1 6 4
4 7 2 6 8 3 5 9 1
9 8 6 1 5 2 4 3 7
3 5 1 7 9 4 6 8 2

                              no. 8930
                                                      perhap­s i could have
done a more difficult puzzle, but then i was
relaxing, drinking ***...
             i made two mistakes...
as indicated, the first one in italics 4
  and the second in bold 1, which i implanted
as 9...
         even though a 9 was already in the sequence...
to correct myself i had to write out
the alphabet... even though i'm really terrible
at memorising the alphabet (hence i'm
a vocab millionaire),
                so to revise looking at 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
i had to write the letters out...
thinking: imagine su doku using neun briefe,
like so:
(a) b (c) d (e) f (g) h (î) j (k) l (m) n (o) p (q) | r s t u v
                                                               ­           w       |x y z|
i'm terrible at remembering the alphabet sequence,
     the cut-off point comes along like this, in sing-along:
a b c d e f g, h i j, k, l m n en oh p... q r s; t u v...
                             blah....
but i thought: i'd love to write a letter imbued su doku...
just for the kicks...
thankfully, having written the alphabet out
                i managed to salvage and complete
the puzzle...
                                    *** and tunnel vision?
more like double vision;
                            and two cats distracting me,
                               pretending to fall asleep like a pair
of pensioners, sitting down.

Do you know what it's like
To see hate in your own eyes
As you stare into the mirror
Or get a glimpse of your reflection
That feeling you have inside
Of how much you just want to die
Your insides screaming
As they continue starving
All cause you hate how you look
Mind shouting
You're so **** fat
You don't deserve a man
Trying not to cry
As these rude remarks
Are shouted from your own mind
You'll have to smile and laugh
At just how **** fat you are
Tell yourself you're not really hungry
As you slap your belly
Wishing it would vanish with each slap
This fat I see
This fat I have
This fat I am
This fat is me
Even though I'm not even
Just that Fat anymore
Once you've been fat
There is no going back
As I stand and stare
Observe & compare
How much my body has changed
My conclusion still is
I am so fat
I do not deserve a man
I hate this view of who I am fat

They will tell you that you cannot feel fat.
Fat is not something you can feel, it’s just something that you are.
Well, I have to disagree.
I feel fat all the time.
I can feel it on my arms, my thunder thighs, and my bulge of my stomach.
Oh, do I feel it on my stomach.
And maybe they will tell you that touching your fat doesn't count.
Well maybe, I Feel Absolutely Terrible.
Feel, F
Absolutely, A
Terrible, T
Well, I may be big, but I’m not stupid.
That spells fat.
So, it must be true.
I’m fat, at least that’s what I've been told.

That’s what people everywhere have been told.
We grow up looking at photo-shopped pictures of models,
because thin is in!
So we gorge ourselves on “skinny pills” that market anorexia in a bottle.
We tell ourselves that in order to be beautiful or handsome, or desirable, there has to be an inch between our thighs.
We tell boys to have broad shoulders and a washboard for a stomach.
We tell girls that they have to look like a dog toy when it’s been squeezed,
but instead of eyes popping out, its your chest and your ****.
We have created impossible standards of what beauty is,
and so we **** ourselves in an attempt to reach them.

We feel hurt by the world,
so we cut each other down with stares that could shatter glass.
Some may think that they have risen above enough to educate,
so they offer you the friendly reminder that
skinny jeans don’t make you look skinny if you’re fat,
as if we were not intelligent enough to figure that out for ourselves.
They will remind you that a moment on the lips is forever on the hips,
so we binge in the darkness,
to hide because we now feel ashamed of a basic human need.
We will cry tears that are dry,
so they will never have to know,
that being told you have a ***-belly when you’re seven,
hurts just as much as being called a fat, little girl when you’re seventeen.

We turn away from the things that used to matter to us.
We look at clothes before smiles.
We take in size, before heart.
We call ourselves ugly without any regard for our person.
We know that the outside matches the inside,
but don’t give a second thought to the kind of person we really are.
So we look in the mirror and take a guess.
That answer seems good enough.

But I am sick of good enough.
I want to shatter the glass,
let it rain down in a fine powder
of the person that we thought we saw.
I want to stop looking down at the body beneath me,
and look up at the world that surrounds me.
But, so much of the world is small, and cruel.
So, I hang my head as I walk past.

I sit next to my best friend,
her perfect size zero
is huge in the eyes of the girls who crave it.
She tells me that she feels fat,
that she thinks she is ugly.
I am struck by this;
she has more beauty than she could ever know.
But I guess I don’t pay attention to what she looks like all that much.
I tell her,
“You’re not fat. If you’re fat than I have a gravitational orbit.”
I try to laugh, but she disagrees with me.
I guess she doesn't really pay attention to what I look like either.

When the fat vegan says she’s a vegan no one believes her
People offer her chocolate to see if she’ll crack
Fat and vegan aren’t words that coincide
It’s like a pancake covered in hot sauce
Unnatural

When the fat vegan walks into the grocery store to buy some produce people think good she needs it
But fat vegan doesn’t feel fat
She likes her shirt tucked in
Sleeves short
Shorts on
The fat vegan loves apple slices and kale salad long showers and a purple lipstick.

Fat vegan eats what she likes
She feels dainty and light
Finally small
Rightfully at home in a sweatshirt
Fat vegan floats through the world as the woman she longs to resemble
But on the inside
Reality creeps back in front of her only in a side glance in a window,
A judgment from a stranger.

Fat vegan has been taught to fit in not stretch out taking up more space is selfish being loud is obnoxious living a magnificent life is too loud
But fat vegan dreams of endless love and long walks  
She finally learns what love means
Being happy on the inside defiant of the world
She knows how strong she is so she continues to float through the world
A
fat
Happy
vegan

"When did you get so thin?" they say it like it's a revelation like the gods from heaven had sent down a message to convey to the whole world and that message was conveyed in a girl and the numbers on her bathroom scale.

Smiling thinly I have to replay "good diet, good exercise" even tough deep down I know the reality and they know it too but I lie because how can you explain that the thing that gives you life is the thing that's killing you?

The good diet? Apparently might as not, apparently celery and gum is not a healthy way to make your body function, apparently no meals is not, apparently diet coke is not, apparently ice is not a way to live your life, but who wants to live mine anyway?

It's hard to convey that every bite adds on a stone and every meal is equal to 10 kilos I have to run off, till I trow up, till my **** is toned up, till my senses turn off and my heart gives up, because when I look in the mirror the girl I see is not the girl in me, the girl I see isn't a girl at all, she has no  bones and no muscles, rather she has jelly around every bend of the body, every inch of it is filled with the word that becomes her, a word that she becomes.
Fat.  
She's fat, she's ugly she's fat, she's fat, she's ugly, she is fat, she's just not that fat, she's fat, her stomach pukes when she eats, fat, her thighs jiggle when she walks, fat, her arms and legs can barely function, fat, she's always dizzy and cold, fat, her face is pale and she is that word. Fat.

Although people try, although they try to tell her that she's not, to help her, to save her, to rescue a girl that does not need rescuing, this girl does not need saving rather this girl needs a knife, a knife to cut away all her worries, to tear her lungs and bumps on her body until she has nothing left, nothing at all because nothing is perfect,
zero is perfection, zero meals, zero carbs, zero calories, zero kilos, zero efforts, zero voices, zero people in her head screaming, zero messages in her head gleaming whenever she eats, the evil ones that she deals with, the ones who stop her eating, the ones that know that every mouthful she eats she is no longer beautiful, she becomes that word, fat,
what torture could be worse than that?

Selfish, she's selfish, I'm selfish for believing that a few spare pounds is the worst thing that can happen to me.

People are reminding me constantly that how the nightmares I feed are not the ones to fear because I could get hit by a car, I could get harassed or stabbed, I could get a disease that can stop me from breathing, I could get kicked on to the streets an of course, of course these things are worse and terrible and horrible and bleak but at least in these circumstances I wouldn't have to eat.

The truth is I'm a jealous little girl in a world that doesn't care, I'm jealous of the people I see who weight less than I will be, I'm jealous of the people who don't eat that people don't see, I'm jealous of the scale, I'm jealous of nothing, I'm jealous of bones and vomits and pills of prescription and water and air and nothing.

So, "when did you get so thin?" they say it like it's a revelation because how can they begin to see that the thing that gives me life is the thing that's killing me.

Hey!
you!
yeah you!
you big fat bus!
with your big fat yellow bootay!

i'm just trying to get to the park,
when out of the dark,
of the trees,
there you be.

Four
FOUR
FOUR stops in four steps
no more
i swear.

sitting in my car
the minutes of my life
little grains of sand
sifting away.

little feet
and little legs
can you possibly
move any slower
across that street?

heavy with packs.
when did kids start
carryin' full backpacks
for a day a school?

where is that school?
top of Mt Everest?

Hurry up!

GET ON that bus!
get on that big fat bus!
with the big fat yellow bootay!

mama and papa
and gramps and grandma and all
kiss and hug you
like you are really setting off to sea.

gimme a break they'll be back at three!

i say,
now go on,
go on now,
GET ON that bus,
that big fat bus
with the big fat yellow bootay!

and *** your big fat yellow bootay
OUTTA MY WAY!

i say,
hey,
go on now,
get outta my way.

fat bootay
outta my way...
hey hey hey
get outta my way
you big bootay.
you big fat bus
with your big fat yellow bootay.

Stop telling me that I'm not fat

I stepped on the scale this morning knowing full well I gained weight

I was not expecting to make it up to 140 though

I was wrong

I thought I could keep off the weight I fought so hard to lose

But no, looks like this is going to be a lifelong struggle for me

I'll always have to think about what I eat

Always

I've gained 8lbs

It doesn't matter what's muscle or how much my ***** weigh

Even if they're legit, I'm going to quit making excuses

I have to starve myself again

I hated that the most

More than going to the gym

More than never eating anything good

The hunger

500 kcal a day, or I was never going to see any results

And it was true

I can't eat 1500 kcal without gaining something

My metabolism is non-existent

Regardless

The thing that has really been killing me is everyone else

That false hope

“You're not fat.”

I don't even know why I ever agreed or let them get to me

Even after losing 20lbs I was still fat at 132, I still had 20 or so lbs to go

But maybe my clothes were too flattering, or they were too nice

I don't care if you are 500lbs

Don't tell me I'm not fat

Don't tell me I'm not allowed to feel fat

I'm not skinny-passing and I never have been

I'm not some skinny girl looking for attention or reassurance

I don't care if that's your honest opinion

I don't care if you'd rather be at my weight or would be happy at my weight

I hate my naked body

I could never pull off a bikini

I'm living in reality

I know what other people would honestly think

Fat is fat

I could weigh so much more, but it doesn't matter

I've already passed the threshold of what is considered fat

From a health standpoint I might be better off

I might not be that hard to look at naked but I'm still fat

Quit telling me I'm not allowed to feel fat because I don't meet your requirements

This is something I struggle with just as much as someone at 200 or 300 or 400

I feel ugly, unwanted, disgusting

I know it has a hand in my love life

I need exercise equipment at home

I'm too self-conscious to go out running or jogging

I don't want anyone to see me

This ends now

I give up

I'm ready to trade it all for a body I love and am proud of

Id love a big fat ****
Or a wrinkled up *******
An ugly looking hag
Who wants a ******* ****

If I had a big fat *****, with a big fat bucket
I'd lay between her fleshy thighs, and definitely **** it
My thrusting **** inside her ****, is where I'd like to tuck it
Spunking up would be sublime, when I lick and **** it

When your about to **** the fat, it takes a certain knack
Stuffed up fishy **** *****, or **** ******* round the back
A nice piece of chunky ****, with a big long sweaty crack
Fatty *** holes make you hard ,my **** would not be slack

I would ride a big large Gal, just like a waterbed
Bathroom ******* would be fun, as well as in the shed
Spunking up between her legs, cream cheese would then be spread
When both holes are full of ***, she can **** my **** instead

And after I have finished, with all of those fat *******
Something different I would want, maybe some old wrinkled witches
All wearing apple gatherers, and big large ******* britches
Older ***** long overdue, scratching long lost itches

A lot of fun I could have, in an old folks place
Disrobed willing grannies *****, stuffed right in my face
At least eight bits of gristle ******, a display of my disgrace
With each granny ****** in turn, if they can stand the pace

As I lift their skirts up their knickers I would sniff
I'm hoping that old fannies good, and they don't smell or whiff
The smell of old used granny ****, is probably just a myth
But I won't let it bother me, as long as I get stiff

I wouldn't even care, if they wore crap NHS glasses
As long as I could **** and ***, inside there wrinkled arses
I would **** them old ****** , all from different classes
Some of them in wheelchairs and some with heart bypasses.

It's irrelevant how fat you are, I really do not mind
As long as you are willing, and your *****'s wet and kind
And if you like it up the ****, then I'm that way inclined
******* ***** is quite fine, so is ******* from behind

So come on girls fat or old, all slags are a possibility
Your sexuality can flood out, there's no need for negativity
I'm willing to **** who comes along, to the best of my ability
Just make sure that I stay stiff, and maintain my agility

My hands are shaking;
I Can't seem to catch my breath.
Something inside me tells me this is okay;
That this is necessary for me.

She must hate me if she thinks this is okay,
Something so cruel, telling me "don't eat, you'll get fatter, no one will like you"

Food is my nightmare, food is my saviour.
I can't help but to deny myself from it though.
I might need help, but who will save me from myself?

This may sound cliche, but feeling fat is what I despise, I constantly am blaming myself for the feeling of "fat"

But, what is fat compared to health ?

What I would not do With a 30 stone fat lass
She'd have big bouncing **** and a ******* ******* ***
Sniffing round her *** crack and her flabby knicker stash
Lapping at her bucket **** her hot wet sweaty ****
******* up her *******, two in her creamy mash
If your not sure where that is, its where she takes a slash

When I pull her knickers off like tents without the poles
then I will have access to her ***** ******* holes
and when I'm up inside her Between those fatty rolls
I'd release those mammoth mounds out of their Playtex Bowls

When it comes to fatty ***** your in for a BIG surprise
There's plenty to grab onto when you squeeze those hippo thighs
It is so delightful you just won't believe your eye's
Cos when you **** a fat girl there's more room for compromise

And While I'm riding on the waves of her belly ripples
Her fleshy thighs around me, surrounding fat that triples
She'd wrap me in her tree trunk legs while I **** her strawberry *******
And she can have a go on top of me even if it cripples

Once her juice is flowing Her **** I'd like to pound
But I would do it ******* just like a rampant hound
Her ***** slapping together her stomach resting on the ground.
And I'd enjoy squeezing her fat bits while ******* that huge mound

I suppose It would be like bonking a king size waterbed
when I finished up her **** I'll **** her **** instead
After I have spunked up and my pencils out of led
I'll stick my fish stained rod in her mouth and she can **** my fishy head

It doesn't matter how fat she is it really isn't valid
Or if she isn't all that healthy, pale faced and a bit pallid
it's probably due to fatty foods and not much in the way of a salad
But after all so ****** what this is a fat woman's ballad

Just because she may not be thin and you may laugh and smirk
Your obviously a closed minded pre- programed Pox doctors clerk
Because I'd rather **** a fat girl than have a **** or ****
So what's the difference how big you are as long as your rude bits work

So if your big and fat, obese or overweight
Let us get together I'm sure it will be great
If you want *** give me a call and we can make a date
come on get your knickers off no matter if its late

And when your sat there naked with your **** upon my middle digit
Knelt in the floor beside you ready with my ridged widget
I hope your not uncomfortable and you don't begin to fidget
Well never mind, its okay I can always **** a **** little ******

(Sing along to tune of 'Strangers in the Night!"
TUMMIES IN THE NIGHT...
Tummies in the night, is this a romance,
Tummies in the night, what does enhance,
All our fat sharing love, would the air be blue?
Fatness in our thighs, was so enticing,
Fat double chins, were so exciting,
Fat around your  guts, told me I must love you,
     Tummies in the night,
Teletubbies ,we looked such a fright,
Two naked tubbies, we  were  tummies in the night,
up to the moment, when we ate our first jello,
Did our fatness grow,
Fat was just a dance away, a fat embracing lard away,
and ever since that night, we've been fat together,
Tummies at first sight, in fat forever,
It turned out so fat, for tummies in the night!!!!

"You're fat" the boy said
Immediately she started crying
"Don't call me that!" Her emotions tempering around
She had tried everything. Pills, Diets, Retching
"You are fat" the boy repeated
"But why is that so upsetting you?" He asked wondering
Her eyes looked confused
"Well, Its reality..  It should not upset us" the boy said calmly
The girl began to breath, deeply and cautious
Noticing the boy was not that skinny himself
"Its because when people call me fat... they laugh at me and joke with me
Just as you are trying right now! It's not funny!"
"What? The boy was surprised.
"They laugh at you? But, if your state of mind doesn't get hypnotised into believing that being fat or called fat is negative and makes you're emotions twist, than the word does not become an enemy."
Her eyes transfigured. She smiled
"Don't believe what people say!
If no one ever believed, that being called fat is laughable
It would have never grown into such an illusion of reality."
Fat people are fat and beautiful, just like skinny people are skinny and beautiful.

hey you!
yeah yous!
all of yous!

you big fat busses
with your big fat yellow bootays!
what a day!

in the lots you sits,
way off the roads,
giving me happy fits!
rows of rows,
of yellow bootays,
lined up straight,
big and fat,
and outta my way!

i say!
this is sure ONE
fine Sun-un-day!

with YOU,
and all YOUR,
big FAT yellow bootay's
outta my way!

hey!
i say!
why can't it be like this
every day?

you big fat busses,
with your big fat yellow bootays!
i shore like it!
when you are,
outta my way!

i say
outta my way!
you big fat busses
you and your big fat yellow bootays!
outta my way!
yellow bootay!
outta my way!
hey! hey!
hey!
such a fine day!

if you can find c. g. jung writing an answer to the biblical Hiob, i can be found writing this... or as the Lad Bible states: be your superficial you... so when she's not her superficial self... you can just play the awkward monotone speaking caveman that you weren't before she played you that superficial card of hers to tone down your interests.

you know why i'm fascinated with schizophrenics?
primarily because they are concerned with
an inorganic medical condition,
there are, absolutely, no reasons to suggests they
are organically prone to premature degeneracy,
they are what the Alzheimer old man calls an angel,
and what the "angel" experiences from time to time...
to cite a non-typical schizoid experience -
a splinter in the mind?
when i wrote my previous poem, i was listening
to the song *the parting glass throughout,
on and on and on... the rhythm took over...
and when the "poem" was finished i retracted myself
into my room and first played auld lang syne
(with lyrics and English translation)...
                           and then... the pure instrumental
of knee-deep-bagpie... bagpipes, sure, horrid,
screeching drowning-lungs of magpie
cackling cut short into a carbonated highland water...
     oh don't worry, what this comes down to
is personal experience, such negations of ease
are not like the black plague, or a.i.d.s.,
they don't come into contact with purely-riddle
human incompetence... it takes more than that...
certain conditions are not viral...
you can't interpreted them as political malevolence
akin to a political movement... primarily because
the numbers don't add up...
                    the complexity of thought is
the complexity of regarding the mind as an abstract
of the brain, given the brain has no accuracies
concerning abstraction when stated against being automated
to a pair of kidneys... i too wish for a La La Land sometimes...
but that's not the reason people allow ***** donations...
     but you know, it really gripped me,
i wrote that poem, listening to the parting glass,
and felt nothing, nothing... because i was so
formulated to write what i wrote...
  i wrote the last bit, walked into my room,
and played the second version of auld lang syne...
the royal scots dragoon guards pure instrumental...
   and you get to weep these cold tears
after an insomniac cold shivers getting warmer with whiskey...
              and whimper and bite your bottom lips...
because you're hardly a woman fainting
and the drama isn't in you...
               and it's actual tears...
people laugh and cry saharan tears, meaning: it never
rains over it...   i see Sahara as the ancient version
of the Himalayan mountain range, suddenly reduced
because god is fickle and well, aren't we all?
           if any of us are alive to read or speak such
encodings... there will be a desert made from
the Himalayas that will be called the Himalaya -
but that's really being optimistic.
       there used to be mountains, mountains in
north Africa, Gandalf! but they crumbled in deserts!
where once a mountain range, subsequently a desert...
where now a desert, once a mountain range.
can i please get a taxi to leave this current
history and Darwinistic revisionism of it as telling
us ape Adam had more psychology about him than
Charles XIV? i want to hear the geological version
of Darwinism! but am i hearing any of it? n'ah ah.
       so yes, upon hearing the scotch dragoon guards
pipe a full whiskey sodden breath into the
         bagpi - i heard the word counter to my scrambled
narrative... king... king?!
                   which is what's bewildering about
a medical term deemed premature dementia...
   it's an organic impossibility...
but given society is an inorganic organism
and all our socio-political mechanisms aren't exactly
organic, there might be some sense in this piquant
dabble in an auditory hallucinogenic experience -
which, evidently, people find frightening,
since they occupy defining their thinking with
hearing so much, and when seeing a homeless man
think so little...
                     logic? a particular arrangement of words
that does not provide kind rubrics for the testimony of
the many...
                    i can hallucinate this auditory "addition"
and competently go on my daily business,
or my nightly business finishing a bottle of scottish amber...
some people cannot...
                 what i see it western society predicating
their poor knowledge of Alzheimer's as if searching
for some genius to explain what happens to the abstract
functions of what the brain represents
                 in terms of how the brain and abstraction
can't be cleanly separated, i.e. to treat the degeneracy
of the brain as succumbed to, but not succumbing to
the elaborated foundations of the "brain"
within the trans-physical functions of the "brain"
within a framework of memory, vocabulary, memory.
people first attribute the brain with too much
           concern for abstraction when in fast the driving
force for abstraction is the now-vogue zeitgeist
"psyche does not exist" -
                            and when the brain degenerates like
a heart or a kidney can... people start to freak
out propping out a Frankenstein revival that brain
cannot in-act upon...
                                 they told us the brain is fat...
          then they tell us only 0%, or fat-free yoghurts are
good... isn't the case for the epidemic of dementia
due to the fact that we're censoring fat?
what feeds the brain? fat! what are we censoring from
our diets? fat! fat free ******* yoghurt!
                             where does the modern epidemic
stem from? censoring fat! you anorexic ******* morons!
  you know why i put extra fat in the way i cook
meals, you know what orthodox cooks tend to
like a sizzle of a lump of lard? brain food...
     and yes, some call it eating a lot of nuts...
well then... fry me a ribs-eye steak on a handful of
cashew nuts you crazy *******!
            this is what drives me crazy concerning
auditory hallucinogenic experiences...
there are no drugs that you could ever sell that people
would buy to experience an auditory hallucination...
primarily because people made thought
   an auditory experience...
                  that's the norm, i'm not talking Walt Disney
here... and people enjoy music because it feeds the heart
in a way averse to images that feed the libido
or dreaming...
    the point being, my "hallucinatory" experience lasted
for less than a second... some ***** on l.s.d. trips
for half a day because he finds modern movies boring
and finally gets to appreciate cubist contortion
mechanisations... i can do more damage with a second's
worth of "auditory" hallucination than that little
hippy can do away with 12 hours, and only end up
writing a haiku thinking he can suddenly conjure up
spirits of Shinto like some Gilgamesh *** Bruce Springsteen;
then he shaves his hair and travels to Mongolia
to learn the index against the lips motorboating
harmonica... and i end up saying: thank you;
cos it wouldn't be twangy without that kind of a tranquiliser
to stabilise excitement beyond encoding sounds.
          i can tell you how ******-up my internal
narrative has become, so i'm defeatist,
here's how it looks like when i get agitated...
               writing on a white flag...
      oh look: wavy! wavy! i'm waving it...
going boats full of nuts and bananas!
             you ever hear the story of a psychiatrist
jumping on a table and barking when a conscription
  cadet tried to fake being mad?
      she did what i just wrote and asked H. Clinton
to reiterate on the campaign trail.
                    inauguration 2017:
   i solemnly swear, that H. Clinton barked like a ruffian
poodle on the campaign trail.
  beside the point though, schizophrenia is an inorganic
manifestation of an actual organic degeneracy -
it's a negation-of-ease for dangerous people...
     people who probably have a music taste outside
the top 40 best selling albums (let alone singles)...
                   and they're quick to pick up on this grey area
concerning premature depression...
                it's trendy these days... people who are melancholic
are people who are like Homer, wrote the Odyssey
went blind from making too much heroism from
      the cannibalism at the gates of Troy and couldn't
handle telling a single lie after having written such an epic...
   or as Virgil convened: Paris didn't escape,
Aeneid did... no one knows what happened to Paris,
       probably choked on a raisin or something:
it's ancient history, if you're not going to talk about it
in a callous manner, then be prepared for careless mannerisms:
pout, **** *** cheek, shelfie!
               what i am seeing is this quote:
a butterfly on the Galapagos Islands... a Tornado in
Colorado... the poetics of quantum physics,
or misplaced potentials of counter-quantifiable
simultaneous counter-interpretations...
    the butterfly effect? under the umbrella corporate
otherwise known, from ancient times: a metaphor.
hey, we started reading into hydrocarbons,
there's no way to talk easy for us...
                           for all my love for one inspiration,
i lost my love for him when he said that not tying your
shoelaces (i.e. spelling) was because he thought it was
indoctrination... you know who i mean: Mr. Chow Chewski...
   spelling? that's like tying your shoelaces!
         question is... who would ingest a hallucinogenic
drug that didn't utilise the multi-coloured world to
an excessive amount to be prescribed, say, an U.V.
phosphorescent spectrum of seeing... when, given all
that... sound occupies this realm of b & w?
               who could create an auditory hallucinogenic?
can you imagine it?
                             most people with a weakened cognitive
membrane would go nuts... as the case has been proven
many a times...
        but given the fact that no such hallucinogenic exists,
or that "auditory" / cognitive hallucinations are
disregarded even though Descartes stressed this
   notion of a substance / thought, and an extension /
       sensual disparities with regards to cohesive uniformity,
i.e. regarding over-stressing a particular sense
      and never reaching a former cohesion...
           can only mean a circumstance later described
by Kant within the framework of the noumenon -
    i.e. perhaps you've seen too much, but heard too little...
perhaps you've tasted too much, but had barely a sniff of
                  more...
        the original thought when exposed to a cohesion
of uniformed senses, experiencing a discohesion of
             a presupposed sensual "uniformity",
returns back into a form of thought, i.e. an extension...
                only because the thing in question is a
presupposition, not a supposition that can be countered
with a proposition, i.e. since we all made mistakes
presupposing, we have become prone to propositions to
suppose otherwise... in terse terms: invent politics.
so what i termed "auditory" and "hallucination"
and conflated them in a prefix of cognitive-, in consolidation
i meant to say that: once all presuppositions (thoughts)
disappear by the miraculous ape that man either is
or wishes himself to still be... and we deem to say:
   reality...                 we only have suppositions (extensions)
               that appear...
                         by the miraculous ape that man never
was and wishes himself to nonetheless be:
  in that consolidatory ref. to the last trinity of Cartesian
thought: substance - in the former the formation
of will... in the latter the complete lack of it -
                              to the simpler scenarios,
we already have knowledge of prisons and asylums...
            because internalising such possible scenarios
never leaves the many to be grafting such possibilities
with enough calm as to persevere for the sole purpose
of understanding, as what point can a noumenon-unit
enter the argument if not from a reflex
                       as this continued narration explains...
none of this was reflected upon...
reflection in such circumstances usually means weaving
a machete at your neighbour...
                                  the noumenon-unit
the ping-pong factor in all of this is a reflex action...
         not a reflective action...
               i am no king no more than i am a pauper...
   now imagine if i tripped for 12 hours on l.s.d.,
having extracted so much, from an "auditory" "hallucination",
that, in the realm of the mind, is neither a minute,
nor a second, nor a nanosecond...
               it's unitary equivalent is simply that of: a word.

This is like Simon Says,
But this time you subject Simon to ridicule because of what she stands for.
In a sport where one is meant to speak out,
Fat girl says but you refuse to hear.
Fat girl says she wants to stand up,
But you tell her that she's too heavy for the heels she wears.
Fat girl says she wants to take a break,
And you tell her she’s too lazy for her own good.
Fat girl says she wants to wear a skirt,
But you tell her that her legs are too big.
All she wants to do is speak her truth,
But you see her as the embodiment of sloth.
She wants to speak on her insecurities,
And you want to strip her of that right.
You say she needs to work harder,
Drop a few sizes,
To fit into a suit,
That is unflattering in all the right ways
But when she tries to explain
Tries to be better
Tries to be someone different
Her efforts become inconsequential to the state of her mentality.
This is supposed to be a place where she can speak.
Fearlessly.
Courageously.
Unapologetically.
But you have silenced her under the pressure of standards.
You have torn her down and stripped her confidence.
You’ve taken away her ability to love herself.
You have constricted her into a box where it is not okay to overflow.
Where it’s not okay to be big and beautiful
Where it’s not okay to be fat.
She is fat.
Fat girl says she’s fat.
And it’s time that you become okay with that.