Scars of Words

Do I look fat in this?
The question plays over in my mind.
Over and over and over again.
It’s strange, I know.
I’m not fat.
I’m anything but.
Maybe cubby.
Compared to my siblings,
Of course.
But I’m not fat.
Everyone tells me this.
And yet that question plays in my mind
Whenever I dress.
Whenever I swim.
Whenever.
I’m not obsessed with my weight.
In fact, I haven’t looked at a scale all year
Let alone go on one.
And yet that question plays in my mind.
I can’t help it.
The word has been burned into me.
Marking me.
Following me wherever I go.
Stuck into my mind
So I never forget.
Ever.
So I was chubby as a kid,
Big deal.
But that still didn’t give them a right
To call me that.
To name me that.
Fat.
Fatty.
Fatty Magee.
Chubby-a-lug.
All my names.
All my nicknames.
Yelled at me,
Called at me,
By those who are suppose to protect me.
My siblings.
They were suppose to save me from such things
Not torment me with them.
And yet they did.
Even to this day
This day, almost fifteen years later
They call me that.
But now I laugh with them.
I know I’m not fat.
It doesn’t hurt.
As much, that is.
Now I know they only joke,
Now it’s a pet name.
Like wee-one
Or shorty.
Fatty, that’s me.
I laugh with them.
Now that is.
Back then I would cry.
Cry right in front of them.
Unable to do otherwise.
I was a kid.
I was young.
I didn’t know that by breaking
They would keep on doing it.
My parents were no help.
Dad never seemed to be around when they torment me.
Mom would just say
“Don’t be mean to your sister.”
And turn away.
Ignore us.
So they could do it all again.
And now because of that,
Because of that ‘harmless’ name
I’m scared.
Wounded.
There has never been a day
Where that question hasn't run through my mind.
All because of them
And that stupid name.
That stupid fucking name
That they still call me by.
It still hurts.
Remembering.
Knowing.
Though I laugh now,
It still cuts,
Still slowly saws through me.
Planting doubts in my head.
Not letting me go.
If only they knew
That one little word,
Barely even a word,
Could do me so much harm.
Tearing me to pieces.
I’d yell at my boyfriend,
Exboyfriend, now,
Whenever he’d say he was fat
Because he wasn’t.
He was like me in that way.
Only I never said it.
I still won’t say it.
But I will type it.
I will write it down.
Words are weapons.
I know, I’ve been speared by them.
My morals and goals
And dreams themselves
Have been killed by this one word.
By this tiny, insignificant word.
It has scarred me, beyond repair.
Maybe if they had known,
Maybe if they knew now,
That even though they didn’t mean it to,
I wear the eternal wounds.
The eternal scars.
The scars of words.