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Fat

A poem

By No OnePublished 7 years ago 1 min read
1

Fat.

My husband dances around the word, but I know that's what he means.

I've gotten fat.

I know it's true, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

I'm not blind; I see the rolls on my back that hadn't been there before. I note how my stomach has started to settle in my pants instead of staying within the lines of my t-shirt.

I see the thickness of my thighs.

My arms are not like they used to be, I can't deny.

I had mistakenly thought that this man was someone I could trust,

someone who wouldn't judge me over something so trivial,

like the stretch marks on my legs and stomach, arms and breasts.

My heart hurts and I want to scream and cry, in fact that's what I do.

He tries to back up and claim he only cares about my health,

but I am not the one diagnosed with high blood pressure.

I am not the one that needs mediciation.

I am HEALTHY.

I have always been healthy. Even when I go to the doctor,

they remark on how well I take care of myself and, sure, I've gained a few

pounds, but who hasn't?

I tell him these things. I tell him I love myself.

I tell him that I am the one that controls what I eat and when I eat it.

I tell him if I'm going to lose weight it's going to be for me-

not for him, not for my mom, not for ANYONE.

I CONTROL MY WEIGHT....

But maybe that's the problem.

fact or fictionsocial commentary
1

About the Creator

No One

Anon

Reader insights

Nice work

Very well written. Keep up the good work!

Top insight

  1. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

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