Fatty McFatty

I have gotten fat again,
So I am eating crap again!
Why is this lesson so hard to learn?
I prefer the blurred lines,
Distorted vision,
An inaccurate mosaique of darkness and reds,
When I cultivate and project the demons from inside my head.
My eyes long to see the girl that I was,
Not the creature that I have become,
Solid,
Chunky,
Fat, Fat, Fat,
Disgusting round and large,
A full figure that I cannot camouflage.
The tablets that I take,
Encourage and provoke weight gain,
Blow up your frame,
And change peoples perceptions of you.
Someone I know once said that I look like Precious (Gabourey Sidibe),
A ridiculous notion,
I was a size twelve at the time,
Always curvey,
But proud.
Now that statement forever haunts me,
As I fill out in all the wrong places,
Get heavier,
Feel heavier,
My paranoia is conformed as I see horror in peoples faces,
They think it true,
That I do,
look like precious,
And now I feel,
that I do.
The actress I speak of is content with her weight,
She says she is happy,
She works it,
She is living the dream,
Her size works for her.
I don’t mean to hate but I honestly do despise her now,
Because when I look into the mirror,
I see her,
I hate her,
She is not who I want to see or be!
She is not me,
And I am sure she wouldn’t want to be.
A skinny girl in a fat chicks body,
I worry about bullies and my health.
If you can own it,
Like and accept it,
Work it!
I dream of anorexia,
I wretch after I eat,
Wishing for one step further,
But cannot,
And so from bulimia I retreat.
I hide from the camera,
The stage,
The spotlights.
I don’t want to be called bubbly,
To be told that I have more to love.
I want to wear my old clothes,
To languish in vanity.
I diet,
I exercise,
No matter what I do,
Thirteen to sixteen tablets a day will have this effect on you.
I am short, crazy and fat,
If you’ll accept me for that,
Maybe I could handle that,
Think more about my health and wellbeing,
Then achieving and being a size “0”,
Which I have never been.
Please take everything into consideration and don’t be mean,
I inflict enough pain on to myself,
Without you adding to the mix.
Words do hurt,
The audible ones that you throw at me with received pronunciation,
Even the looks that you throw at me with silent communication.
Just leave me be.
You provoke frustration by inflicting intimidation.
Where your motivation comes from I do not know,
But your torture won’t make me thin so,
Come forth with love,
Or take a step back,
My physicality does not effect your reality,
And if I was well,
I think we would need to assess your mentality,
Not mine!

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