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