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In Defence of Carbs: they don't make you fat and they are important.


home made god

something told me

that i was not beautiful

unless my thighs did not touch.

something told me

that i was not beautiful

until i lived only on plants

ignoring hunger pains

sunken cheekbones

dead eyes.

some thing told me

that i was not beautiful

unless my stomach was tight,

spread over my bones like cheap spray paint.

chipping off at the edges

shrivelling at the sight of oil.

donteatthat/donteatthat

until three days later

when the inside of my refrigerator looks like the aftermath of a hurricane.

diet pills and cheeto dust and self hate

sliding down my throat and sinking into my bloodstream.

my collarbones are not even

thank my home made god for turtlenecks.

my arms have too much extra skin.

pray for winter,

or at least that nobody asks why i’m sweating in a long-sleeved tee in the middle of July.

something told me

if i could fumble with a squishy belly in my bathroom mirror

i did not belong in a bikini.

something told me

the world was made for girls who can run six miles

or have skin the colour of caramel