a/n: MAJOR TRIGGER. for ed's. written last night, major hysteria ahead. tread carefully.

readreadread - drink in those
magazines. fashon; diets -
in vs. out.

How To Lose Five Pounds Fast!
How To Flatten Even Your Stomach!
Shed Twenty Pounds In One Week!


oh god, only in such a
"civilized" culture can we
starve ourselves so properly, intentionally.
it's all about looking
disgusting, unhealthy, wasted away
til you're more bone than blood,
more dead than alive.

"honeybaby, little girl,
don't you just look so f.a.t.?

look - she's got tits -
a motherfucking ass, girls!

hasn't she figured that out?"

don't you want any friends, kid?
yeah, so step on the scale.
diet those numbers down -
then they'll love you, right?

but careful - careful -
if you show off too much -
if your hipbones jut too far -
they'll turn on you. lock you up.
feed you carefully counted calories,
fatten you up so they can
eat you alive.

so watch your back
(the spine sticking out oh-so far)
and don't let them see you
counting your ribs like stars.

hide it from them, baby;
such a guilty little secret.
(aren't you? aren't you?)
sealed away in a mirror, the blood and muscle
pouring through the cracks.

(oh no, it's
turning into nonsense again!
hysteria, confusion leaking
into my slipslippery words...)

quick, quick, before we break down
completely, sobbing
wildly on the kitchen floor,
surrounded by empty boxes and shattered dishes,
one more question, one last line:

(does this poem make me look fat?)