Large

Beauty is that object that you don’t know quite what it looks like

but somehow it suspends you from hooks 

but no you are not hanging you are walking towards it

being dragged of your own volition 

trying to be Beautiful

and failing

is tumbling like a cast off weed 

tied to the back of a pickup truck 

bouncing down a disheveled country road

or

that is what it feels like when 

I am picking those gravelly pointed words out of my skin

I am exploding from all pores all points of exit

this fat is oozing, slowly engulfing, 

strangling and morphing

filling up my skin and the rooms I reside in until it thrusts you so far you can’t even see Me

and I know what they say when my back leaves the room

I hear “large”

when I turn sideways I will never disappear into the fabric of your skin

You will never pick me up

and I will never stand alone without the preface of the creature who slithered before me

I am a grotesque

a caricature of Attractiveness’ opposites

growing and growing and growing and growing

I ate the cake and now look at me!

this body of mine

this thing in its natural form 

seems so unnatural

the sight of my pitiful, deformed, pink nakedness doesn’t force a year’s worth of meals back up through your esophagus?

you haven’t weighed your options in favor of someone who weighed less than you?

and you haven’t noticed yet.

But I have.

and now we play a waiting game

a weighing game

of self-objectification and projection of self loathing

polluted by this disgust I think you should have

I play a weighing game 

against no one but myself.