SLAM POEM: An Open Letter to the Girls on the Train

*inspired by: thin girls on the subway complaining (loudly) about being fat

I’d like to say something to the girls on the train.

You don’t know me, but I know you.

You live in front of your mirror, always asking it

questions. It’s your confidante, your guru, the one you never leave the house without consulting because

God forbid

you ate a cookie and your pants are tight

God forbid

Your belly hangs half an inch

over your waistband

God forbid

you have a waist

and hips

and a mother that feeds you muffins

made with real sugar sometimes

GOD FORBID.

I know you.

You hold your breath in the fitting room,

cut the tags off your jeans,

freeze the chocolate so you won’t

eat it and snap your teeth.

I know you.

You compare yourself to everyone who walks by

Wish you had her legs

Her smile

her ability to eat just one oreo and put the rest back

I know you.

and I have some advice.

Eat.

The. Cookie.

Not because you should.

Not because you can.

Not because it’s there,

and you’re sad,

and he didn’t call,

and you already ate fries,

so the diet can’t start until tomorrow anyways.

eat it because you want it.

Taste it.

Let it melt on your tongue,

invade your thoughts

your being

your every last taste bud

until your eyes roll back and you have to sit down

while the world spins faster and faster

with all the wonder wrapped in this

tiny, sweet, circle.

Then stop,

drink some water,

and get on with your day.

Because it’s just a cookie,

and you’re just a girl on a train

and he’s just a boy who’d probably love you

even if you were two pounds heavier

and if he wouldn’t, then he’s

not worth it.

So eat the cookie.