(Self)Obsessed.

With

each pound

that

falls

away

a woman

increases

her

worth

and

less,

becomes

more,

unless

you

don’t

have.

But the spirit

can

shrink

too,

and there

is not enough

affirmation

in

this

gaunt world

to fill

a leaking soul.

And there are

Mothers

who are

‘them’

to our

‘us’

holding the

dying hope

of their wombs

as they

slowly

bleed life

and all

that they need

is that

which

we

reject

for the perfect

fit

of

whitewash

on these tombs.

What

have

we

done.

— (Self)Obsessed.

© Liezel Graham 2018.

Fat.

feel

the weight

of the word

in your mouth,

before you set it free

to cling to the skin

of another.

sometimes,

the smallest words

are the

heaviest

to carry.

—fat.

This poem is deeply personal.

Years ago I battled bulimia.

I have, ever since I can remember, been in a constant struggle to accept my body. Many of my poems reflect this, and the healing that I have since found, but the battle always rages within—anyone recovered from an eating disorder will tell you the same.

Today, I am deeply passionate about body-positivity and appreciating bodies of all sizes and shapes. I exercise because I love the feeling and I eat to be healthy.

My spirit was bent out of shape from the very first time I was called ‘fat’—I was about 5 years old, and that word followed me for most of my formative years.

When others stopped; I continued calling myself ‘fat’.

F a t.

It is such a small word, isn’t it? And yet, it is a heavy word to carry.

It marks you.

Leaves you standing there—naked under the scrutiny of the one who flung it your way.

I have so much to write on this topic. So, so much, but just for tonight—this—take care with this word. Feel its weight before you allow it to cling to the skin of another.

Or, yourself.