Yeah, I Know….

I’m overweight. Simple as that.
Short and round, and sorta fat.
Oh yeah, I know I’m not obese,
I can usually see my knees,
But I don’t feel good,
As most things go,
And don’t need you to tell me so,
For truth is I’m really quite aware,
I’ve got at least one tire to spare,
So I don’t say this to chastise,
I just think perhaps it’s wise,
To leave your judgement on the shelf,
For truth is I already hate myself.

Weight a Minute

She’s fit and full of energy,
Weighs 20 kilos less than me,
And yet she says she’s fat.
I’m not sure how to take that.

If she is fat then that must mean,
I’m obese and morbidly obscene.

And she likes to casually mention,
When she has your full attention,
How she went the whole day without food.
“All I’ve had is half a grapefruit.”

She’s showing off her deprivation.
So proud of her starvation.

I’m just fine and normal where I’m at,
But in thin-obsessed LA, I’m fat.
It’s hard to see them both obsessing,
Counting calories and guessing.

And though they don’t directly attack,
They do talk a lot behind my back.

And I know this to be true.
They just don’t know what to do.
Don’t understand and can’t relate,
To someone not trying to lose weight.

How could anyone possibly,
Be so fat, and yet so happy?