Mother,
it didn’t even cross your mind
I see
to ask me why I think
I must lose weight.
Funny though
no one ever told me to.
You now tell me
I look better than before,
Normal, you say.
“A compliment, honey!”
That harms more than pleases.
Listening to a thousand voices alike
led me slide
two fingers down my throat
by seventeen.
I wanted
to sit on a chair
to eat in public
without feeling blamed.
Things
skinny girls don’t have to worry about.
They cross the street
and aren’t mocked
by the drivers watching them.
A skinny girl,
A pretty girl
is not troubled
when she walks to the board and stands
with her back turned
at the class.
There’s not a whisper behind
to make her cry
later on.
Mother,
it’s because
I can’t take it anymore,
that I don’t eat your dinner
and I starve myself
every other day
and everyday
after 2 P.M.
My body feels weird,
estranged.
My neck, my knees, my hips
are my ticket
to your exclusive circle
that excludes.
Why don’t you people accept
healthy and happy looks many ways
other than an XS?
Mother,
help me please
see it in the mirror too
and leave that world
for me
for good.
