Sunday, December 23, 2012

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

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.

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.

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