When I was eight,I
When I was eight,
I ate fourteen times a day.
Whatever I wanted, because
I wanted it.
Because food
was my friend.
When I turned thirteen,
food became to me,
what Goliath had been to David.
A lumbering,
looming,
livid,
threat.
And though my waist shrank,
the way that the pretty girls' waists did,
I was larger than ever,
in my own head.
When I turned seventeen,
I decided that I was too strong
to let my life be goverened by bones.
I decided that thin
lithe
graceful
delicate
were for people who were born that way.
I am eighteen years old.
And I eat fourteen times a day.
whatever I want.
Because
I want it.
I was blessed with legs like
tree trunks,
powerful enough to take
wherever I want to go.
I was blessed with arms of Atlas
strong enough to support
everyone that I love.
I was blessed with soft hips,
curves to combat the hills of Italy.
You are in the right place right now,
in your own skin.
As am
I.