Fat Girl
Fat girl.
There she stood, waiting for the number 4 bus,
(She needs a size thirteen at least)
Wearing the clothes that only skinny girls can get away with
(they get away with murder)
Seams taut and strained
by puddles of flesh eager to burst forth
(She can feel the heat that eminates from reproachful eyes,
trying to melt away her fat)
Chameleon
trying to blend in with a culture that thinks a size two is healthy
(what value does a number really have anyways?)
Every ounce of female flesh a threat to masculinity,
while every bulging paunch and sagging jowl
is a tribute to their male divinity
(one more beer and steak with the guys
makes a nice offering)
While his wife kneels, next to the toilet on the bathroom floor
weeping over the remains of half a mangled bagel
(Sacrilege! Blasphemy!
Don't you know that carbs are an abomination to the goddess Versace?)
Fat girl.
Your back is so sore from stooping down to that level
(Stand up straight!)
You don't need to take that bus
when you can just keep on walking
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