Lately, I have been up in my feelings - so to speak. I have had more and more trouble writing on a day to day basis than I have in a long time. Perhaps its the stress of getting up and going back to work - perhaps it's the sheer anxiety and depression weighing down on me.

This explanation, of course, is not the pure reason for this piece. I have dabbled in poetry - for some time, I don't want to even disclose how horrible my poetry was when I was younger, but here we are. I am slightly more refined, more swearing, and less tolerance for cruelty and abandonment.

Through this I have rekindled my appreciation for spoken poetry and have really been caught up in Button Poetry - if you don't know what that is, please check it out. The Artists there are diverse and fantastic. Their stores are thought-provoking and sometimes controversial. Raw, even.

One poet caught my attention (as most do), Rachel Wiley. She discloses pieces of herself that hit me so deeply in the pits of my heart that I am often full of rage and sorrow. Not at her of course, but the people in this world that take it upon themselves to be the one "diagnosing" because they're "worried about your health." So, this one is for me, the fat girl who won't accept that.

I do not owe you

an explanation for

who

what

why

or how

I am and function.

I do not

will not

cannot

justify to you

the inner workings of me,

the fat girl.

That's right -

I am the fat girl.

I am an undisclosed box

checked on everyone's radar.

I am the unlocked door to what

is assumed to always be self-esteem

or lack thereof.

I am the forbidden foods

secured behind high price tags and low quality.

I am mismatched socks,

fun, but not ideal.

"How could she possibly live with herself"

"Why is she glorifying obesity?"

As if my existence in space is purely...

alien.

"I am deserving of care.

I am deserving to exist as I do."

My body is NOT

the playground for

child-like bullies.

My skin is not

yours to mold and mask.

I AM NOT a puppet.

I do not owe you

explanations.

Un-click that box

that you assume gave you a right

to have feelings about the shape

size

feeling

of my body.

Return to whence you came,

evil demon, gremlin of hate.

You are not welcome here

where the sunlight hits my

FAT body.

Where love has

healed

rejuvenated

and released back into self.

Your hate

your discourse

your unfiltered opinions

on Who

How

and What

I should be

are in vain.