lat.

No more of the
stubborn belly roles.
Smaller breasts that
men no longer seem to stare at.
Ironic that they have
lost their craving
for the smaller bellies,
and six pack abs
after you hit that size 1
that you've been longing for.

My friend tells me that men
no longer look at her
now that she's lost
90 pounds, and
most of her figure,
to which I reply that
I haven't been glanced at
since gaining 50 pounds
in the span of three years.

What the hell do men want?

I'm not naïve. I know most want
a beautiful creature by their side.
But there is more to me
than the bulge that hangs over
the waistband of my jeans.
I am tired of this
picking and
pulling and
prodding
apart.

I will never be
stick thin,
a petunia petal, or
sporting deer limbs
while walking down
a runway.

I am not modelesque,
and I don't plan to be.

I am
rotund, but still
robust,
full of flesh
and full of curves
and
fat (yes, I said
that dreaded f-word:
FAT)

I don't want
to be painted on,
brushed over,
ignored or
reminded
of it daily
with a look,
or no looks at all.

I live with the constant reminders,
of whispers of what I was told
while growing up.
I am still adorned with
the same marshmallow cheeks,
the ones that spawned
the fingertips of old women
in grocery stories.

I have an amazing landscape
of stretch marks that travel
down my legs,
across my waist,
even down to my calves
from long days and nights
spent at a gym that I despised,
from a never fulfilled desire
to be a size 7.

I have rolls, and yes my arms
unmistakably jiggle
(trust me, I entertain myself
for hours while watching them
in the mirror),
but they are also
fairly lighter than most,
and possess no tan marks
from when I refused to
wear short sleeves even in
100-degree weather.

No one can see that
I am more than just
a moment's imperfection.
I am a daughter of
the moon, a laughing poet,
living an ancient fate.
I shout secret voodoo curses
that merge into stories
onto pages. I am a
huntress of words,
a cautionary tale,
a lifelong love song.

I am hunger,
always craving
the unmistakable
taste of content.