Just the word alone leaves us quaking
in fear of the label
and in fear of what it means about ourselves.
To be Fat
means worthlessness,
laziness, sloth-like gluttony.
Failure, big fucking failure,
wearing belly fat and double-everything
from chins, restaurant orders,
the double digits of clothing sizes.
The humiliating, knowing looks we get
at the grocery store, just from buying anything.
Because everyone knows
that Fat doesn't deserve to eat.
But what if Fat isn't necessarily obesity?
What if Fat for me means thinner
For you, perhaps means a good month of dieting
and workouts at the gym?
Yes, what if Fat for me is just that,
for me it is foreign, for me
it is gaining 35 pounds in a few months,
inhabiting a strange new body
that craves food on intense hunger scales;
and though my hair stopped falling out
and though my memory works fine now,
I still feel chest pain and chronic fatigue,
and to top it all off
a brain that tells me--
no, convinces me, deceives me--
that I have lost all control,
that I am nothing;
a lazy slob with love handles
and excessive skin under my chin
and cellulite on a plump ass
with tits that have tripled in size;
and I can't fucking recognize my own body.
. . . No,
I can't. . .
This is my Fat,
my greatest fear,
to have lost all control of my own body,
to have lost control over what is merely a "diet" to you,
and listen to my body's hunger cues
and then some. . .
To eat an entire pack of cookies, gummies,
pints of ice cream, bags of donuts
and then force every bite
back up as my face drips with
snot, tears, bile, saliva,
and my heart skips beats in my chest
and body is overcome with the shakes and the sweat,
but no. You don't talk about how
recovery from anorexia can lead into
bulimia,
or for others, straight binge eating disorder.
But no,
we don't talk about that Fat.
It's still our fault for getting
that way.
It's just a joke, right?
Right, I'm living a joke.
So I remain silent,
it means nothing.
I live the rest of my life
living my own version of Fat:
just waiting, waiting
for someone to call me out
on a grocery store run,
say: That's a lot of junk food,
or maybe: You sure you want all that?
Though I have already gotten:
You're Eating A Lot! Are You Hungry?
I know, this is my Fat,
But oh how I long for the
day
when someone will outright admit
to me: I have put on a lot of weight.
Go ahead, tell me in your own
way: I Am Fat.
I dare you
because the day you do,
I'll check out of big ol' McAmerica,
and become thinner than those 50 lb anorexics,
once I cease to exist and my body finally rots off my bones.
..
Please.
