Love,
What must be different about me that you went away, while the fat remained? I look at people looking at me on the road and I know what they must be thinking -- "Oh my god! She is so fat!" Yes, my chin has no defined difference from the jaw, and any t-shirt I choose to wear sticks to me a little too stubbornly than it should, my layers are heavy and I am generally not an hour-glass, yet, believe me, love, I love you.
When I recline, my curves are not curvaceous. They are mounted bulges, not very appealing, perhaps, but, have you ever tried caressing? An excess of flesh just houses the excess of emotions I harbour. I do not intend to enter the debate of choice, whilst it posits to be an excellent argument about your discretion, but I do wish, almost feverishly, that such hideous reasons such as 'fat' would not exist.
To top it, I feel horrible about it myself, and to believe, that you too, now, is the equivalent of electrocuting me. This fat woman has the same heart that her earlier weight carried, the same emotions caught in the lesser kilogram body, but she fails to hold the confidence that her charm works. Charm. It feels as if the word is out of a magic world, which has devised to loot me of my superpower one fine morning. It left me with a morning which is anything but fine.
I have eaten well, drank better and worked nothing at all to have called forth such an emotional upheaval that makes me feel fat. I feel fat and I wish for you. How pathetic. How depressing. What a world where being fat feels more deserted than being fair. You are heavily judgemental, know that. Why do they call for you, Love?
Yet, would I mind if you call me 'Fatty'? And love me?
Oh hell no. Fat no.
Fat-Woman.
To top it, I feel horrible about it myself, and to believe, that you too, now, is the equivalent of electrocuting me. This fat woman has the same heart that her earlier weight carried, the same emotions caught in the lesser kilogram body, but she fails to hold the confidence that her charm works. Charm. It feels as if the word is out of a magic world, which has devised to loot me of my superpower one fine morning. It left me with a morning which is anything but fine.
I have eaten well, drank better and worked nothing at all to have called forth such an emotional upheaval that makes me feel fat. I feel fat and I wish for you. How pathetic. How depressing. What a world where being fat feels more deserted than being fair. You are heavily judgemental, know that. Why do they call for you, Love?
Yet, would I mind if you call me 'Fatty'? And love me?
Oh hell no. Fat no.
Fat-Woman.
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