There are worse things I could do
Than to gain a stone or two,
Though I know it’s likely more
To be three, or maybe four
There is one thing that is true:
There are worst things I could do.
I could ditch those pesky meds
Leave my mental health in shreds,
So what’s sitting on my plate
Will not cause excessive weight.
But you know, I’ve thought it through,
And that’s a thing I just won’t do.
I could find some other way
Of surviving every day.
I could drink or I could steal,
Find some new way not to feel,
But if food can get me through
Then what the hell is that to you?
I could count each calorie
Hoping that will set me free,
Let my bathroom scales decide
If I dare to go outside,
Hiding from the likes of you.
But that’s not something I will do.
I could scorn someone like me,
Make my loathing plain to see,
Say she has to learn that fat
Isn’t pretty to look at
And offends the public view,
But that’s a thing I’d never do.
You may want me to oblige,
Hate myself over my size,
Agree that I have no self-worth
With this cup size and this girth,
But I’ve learned that isn’t true.
There are much worse things I could do.