I want to be small and light like
A fairy, a bird with hollow bones
That floats on the wind.
I want to be a little daisy
You tie into crowns
And I ache because I’m tall
I’m soft, I’m fleshy and round.
Because nothing fits right,
Not the floral dresses
Or rompers or pretty stringed
Tops, it’s all wrong under artificial lights
In a change room,
Where I sigh, breasts stretching out
Fabric, hips trying to escape denim
I’m too much to be contained in a
I am a blown up doll.
I am nothing like I want to be;
Thighs kissing and rubbing
Arms mushing and long
And I know I am not a fairy
A bird, a daisy, I am a giant,
A heavy stone, an anchor
And I sink down,
Pulled by some force to the ground
In a pile of things, locked
In front of a mirror
Beside measuring tape,
And a scale that tells me what I know.
And I am sad because I look
At glossy pictures that tell me
This is how floral dresses should look
This is what a romper can be,
This is what pretty is in a stringed top
I find I do not fall
Under the definition of beautiful.
I pull at my tummy,
Prod my arms, my legs
Poke my hips, my bum
Memorize my face, my cheeks,
And finally my eyes
They are heavy too,
Weary, hesitant, defiant
Fighting off what I understand.
I understand disorders
And makeup teams
Editing and marketing too,
I’m a smart girl,
I’m a strong one,
But I am here, heavy hearted.
I am weak sometimes
When I do not want to be weak.
And when it hurts, it hurts so bad
And when I’m down,
I’m so down.
Dreading the change room,
and hating bathing suit displays.
Because I don’t fit where they want me to
And I’m not hollow, I’m full
Of things that are not measured
In inches, I am flesh and bone
Teeth and blood, nails
And fight and that is enough to be
And that should be enough for me