So, it’s been a rough couple of days for me. Let’s just say I’m having a lot of bad days in a row. A LOT. Last night, my night ended in hyperventilation and sitting on the couch with my daddy and my new puppy. (His name is Pepper by the way. I think he’s super cute.) But I made the mistake of stepping on the scale and thinking that that number somehow defines me. I know that everyone says that it doesn’t, but I just feel like it does. It’s not like I go around judging people by what they look like, because I absolutely do not!!!! But I feel like people do when they look at me! Ugh, what’s my issue? I mean, I pretty much cried all morning today. I’m just in one of those bad ruts I think.
I’ve been on my favorite place lately, pinterest, and I stumbled upon this video of a girl who reads her poem. It’s beautiful. It made me cry when I watched it. It kind of inspired me to write my own poem, although it is not eloquent, eye opening or helpful as hers, it’s the raw words that my own mind has said over the past 72 hours.
These collarbones will never stick out
But it’s not like I’m actually stout
My thighs are too big, they’ll never form that gap
So I guess I’ll need to dwell on being fat
These bones on my wrist, used to let my charm bracelet hang off it
Now these arms seem thick and make me feel sick
“You’re soooo skinny.” “You just need to eat”
“Why do you worry, you live so thin.” “I wish I could be like you.”
Shut up, shut up, you don’t know what it’s like to have these voices talk all the time
The lines in my abs won’t pop out,
I guess everything has just gone south
Those hip bones live under a layer of fat
What are you going to do about that?
Puke, take pills, run like hell, no matter what you’ll never get that body back
Give up the cake, chips and junk food
Then being skinny will come easier tomorrow
Eat clean, eat right
That’s how you get the right body type
Cry, hyperventilate and fall on the floor
That’s what this has come to, do I even wanna do this anymore?
Can’t my clothes just hand off, my pants be too big, can’t I just be a twig?
These standards of beauty are just too hard and high
How am I suppose to achieve this, I don’t even know how to try