EQUAL

If I hide
I won’t have to find out
If you’d love me as I am

This fat feels like a disability
Something I know I’m unworthy for
Less of a person
Something’s wrong with me obviously
Because I’m not within “the” size rage
I’m X X X
And because of this I won’t receive your X on the end of a text?

But i have Xs
I was worthy
So why do I feel like this now
How what why where when
Will this always creep in
Unworthy
Fuck you

Vulnerable plea
Laying on the floor do you like me
A whale
Maybe I’d be in your eyes
Will you try to ignore it like him
Lie
Make love to my future slimmer version
Close your eyes
Try to put me on a diet
Fuck you

It takes a certain kind of man
To be able to hold me
In all this glory

Will you judge me
For my folds
My clothes
Sizes
My measurement
Temperance

I stand in who I am
I accept myself loving myself more each day
Why do I care what others may think
Why do I want to hide from it
Why even question it
Give it time of day
Push you all away before you can say
It’s not you its me
I’m not interested anymore
Let’s just be friends
Because I’m not your type

If I was that innocent beckoning siren
You wouldn’t swing
You’d sing and be hooked without me trying
Or worrying of my angle my direction my aim the game
Societies advertisement

He told me there’s a type all men go for
It’s the way the world works a rule of thumb
Don’t hate me for the truth Hun
Loose weight and you’ll be the one
Fuck you

So, I’m not the norm
Not plastered on walls
Not the flower poised and sold to that collective “dream”
I’m another dream entirely
Worthy of so much more beyond this level bullshit
And yet it’s got me
Questioning my body
My image
My worth entangled in a waist size
Less worthy less human less woman less less less
What a mess

I’d rather not face this demon
I’m not sure what it wants of me
To face my diet my movement
My health slim me down
Make no sound
But then it wins it conquers
Crashing
image equals worth
Curse
Worthy of the attention of man
Of devotion
Of love

When I do loose this weight I will wear a black-bag-dress, scrape my hair back with my head in books behind sketches and veils. I reject this whole notion. Physical Attraction.
My man is attracted beyond imagery informed by what’s within magnetised without. Only then will I unfurl beyond skin with skin, rejoining.

I don’t want to be a part of this sick ‘normal’ game. Normal. Ha. Where rules entitle worth and an image is cursed imprinted in our minds of how we must look and live in OUR LIVES. Our unique bodies. With our unique dreams. What if I wanted to wear a bag for the rest of my days, walk with my elder staff, and have green hair with a birds nest. I’d be the town crazy, why wouldn’t I be the town mare or town beauty or just a normal key in societies streets. Why can’t I just be me without any expectations any judgements any scale measurements. Just me – without any scales.

Equal as a wave. Equal as a drop joining the ocean.
Equal, then it won’t matter if you don’t love me.
My body a wave. A current in the depths, dark. A journey. Held by the wholly. Held.

“Holy are these hands that hold me
Holy are these hands
Holy are these hands that hold me
Holy are these hands”

Hold me.

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