to safety in a thinner body. Asphyxiate during a fire? Your lungs
would be stronger sans crushing weight. If you were a good fatty,
he wouldn’t ghost you after sex—your panties a conquest flag
he jokes is a parachute. You’re a hogtied hottie he still longs to see
when all the lights are off. A waitress scoffs as you order diet soda—
an audience to the unbelievable twist. You die inside as you brush
a too-close table and someone glares. You talk about losing weight
and exercise so your doctor sees you as human… never as good as him.
I don't normally address fatphobia in my writing, but I am doing so more as of late. No idea why.
The next blog post should be about NFTs. I'm currently gathering information so I sound 10% less ignorant on the topic. It was supposed to be today's post, but I'm a bit overwhelmed right now.
If you haven't read my published poems from the last couple of months, I'm going to leave links right here.