10 honest thoughts on being loved by a skinny
I say, ‘I am fat.’ He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both. He kisses me
My college theater professor once told me that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead. We put on shows that involve flying children
and singing animals, but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief buy anyone loving a fat girl. 3
On the mornings I do not feel pretty, while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline, for other girls’ phone numbers. 4
When we hold hands in public, I wonder if he notices the stares —
like he is handling a parade balloon down a crowded sidewalk;
I wonder if he notices that my hands are made of rope. 5
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you. I will not take your sex tips
on how to please a man that you do not think my body will ever be worthy of. 6
He tells me he loves me with the lights on. 7
I can cup his hip bones in the palm of my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
Sip wine from his collarbones. He does not believe me when I tell him he
is beautiful. Sometimes I fear the day he does is the day
he leaves. 8
The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop assumes we’re just friends
and flirts across the counter. I spend the next two weeks
replacing my face with hers in all of our photographs. When I finally admit this,
we spend the whole night taking new pictures. He will not let me delete a single one. 9
The phrase “Big girls need love too” can go die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk. Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty. I am not a novelty. 10
I say, ‘I am fat.’ He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and he kisses me hard.