“Skinny is Good”


One day I was proud to be a child’s large.
The next I was proud to be a junior’s small.

Voices surround me and preach,
“Skinny is good.”
A constant siren, echoing my every breath.
I have been morphed into the world’s version
of what I should be, a vision of who
they want to see, and I am
controlled by their words and will.

“Skinny is good.”

My mind has lost its ability to define
beauty based on me, but rather
on what the world says it should be:
the sinful eyes and hungry voices chanting
“Skinny is good.”

And so I look in the mirror, and my eyes
travel to my sides, and I think,
“Skinny is good.”

And my meals become small, and my hunger
until it is nearly nonexistent, because
“Skinny is good.”

And I step on the scale that
weighs my life, and I peer down at the number
so far away, and I frown and whisper,
“Skinny is good.”

And in no time, my waist is nothing more than
stretched, pearly skin over
weak, pearly bones.
And I look in the mirror, and I can’t
see through my tears as I promise myself,
“Skinny is good.”

And the clothes that once stretched
as I wiggled into their depths
now hang loosely from my disfigured frame.
I move them, tug on them,
beg them to make me look whole,
but they can’t lie for me any longer.
I can practically hear their laughter,
their jeers and taunts at my murmurs of
“Skinny is good.”

And then I’m on the floor, trying to
stand, arms shaking and breath heavy because
I just can’t.
So I curl up on the ground in a tight ball,
praying that I might survive long enough
to see the reflection of a girl
who’s beautiful.

And I can’t help but wonder,
how can skinny be good?

*(Note: I mentioned in a past post that there was a time in my life where I struggled with self-esteem and confidence. This poem is a recollection of that time of struggle. It is written from real-life experience. If you are struggling as I did, always remember, you are beautiful. Love yourself, no matter what others say. You are never alone.)

Picture source: AGENDA

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