day five: dressing room

i locked the door behind me
and threw six pairs of size ten jeans
onto the chair of the dressing room

i hoped that somehow they would fit
over the curves of my thighs and hips
just enough that maybe i wouldn’t cry

every time i looked into a mirror
and want to be someone i am not,
who i don’t see myself becoming

i am told to love and embrace myself,
but they only show me skinny girls
embracing thigh gaps and tiny waists

my own mother constantly asks me
‘should you eat that? i worry about your figure’
and i can no longer fit into those jeans

so i wear the same three pairs of leggings
and the same four dresses that don’t
accentuate how big i think my ass is

and i always wear a necklace or a scarf
to cover and distract from the part of
my stomach that hangs over my waistband

and i’m back in the dressing room
asking again if this makes me look fat
because it isn’t a joke to me anymore

i think they all make me look fat
and my mother still tells me that
she’s ‘worried about my figure’

and i thought the freshman fifteen
was a college myth based on beer intake
but somehow i think it happened to me

and now i only wear tall boots and
baggy sweaters that i pull at all day hoping
that i can make myself appear smaller

but i don't think it's working,
because every time i leave my room
i suck in my stomach to hide it

and i’m back again in that same
cramped dressing room because
i’ve outgrown all my spring clothes

so now i have nothing to wear
and my mother still asks me
if i care about my weight

what i don’t think she realizes is that
when i look in the mirror i only see
my size, i only care about my weight

i don’t see my reflection, but i see
the rolls that hang off my hips and the
stretch marks littering my upper thighs

and i wear cute bikinis but
no one can see them because
i don’t take off my cover up

and my mother doesn’t say it anymore
but i can see that she still glances at my
waistline and sighs, wishing it was tiny

my brother does say it though, blatantly
calling me fat as i walk the aisles of the
grocery store not wanting to eat anything

and so the only thing that happens is
every time i eat, i hate myself for it.
but remember that time i didn’t eat?

even though my lips were chapped and
my brain was crying of dehydration i liked
the way my dress could be tightened by a paper clip

but it was stupid and i knew it
and i wanted to practice the things
that i had preached to others

so now i go to meals and eat one serving
and no cookie, my mother would be so proud,
she wouldn’t worry about my figure.

here i am, waiting impatiently
for the day in the dressing room
when i ask if i can fit into those pants

and i can look at my face in the mirror
instead of my hips, and tell myself
that they do not make me look fat.