Standing in front of the mirror, contemplative and incredulous,
I lift the hem of my shirt and tuck it beneath my bra.
Turning to the right, then to the left,
I stare at the silhouette of my squishy tummy.
Been hearing things…confounding things.
A little bird, with baleful eyes and a reviling tongue,
has been spreading insidious lies,
telling anyone who will listen, something is wrong with my
lovely tummy.
How can that be?
The arc of my back,
accentuating the curve of my body.
The subtle swell of my stomach,
like the archers bow.
Flesh the color of succulent peaches,
soft as the lily’s petal.
You’re in my ear, you nasty nefarious creature,
spitting poisonous venom and retching bile
Not good enough…not thin enough…
How dare you.
You are sick,
beguiling and benighted.
Pandering from my insecurities,
trying to convince me I am less than exquisite.
Take your magazines,
filled skewed ideology and revolting distortions.
Take your unrealistic expectations,
starving our girls and filling their eyes with tears of
inadequacy.
And you… leave… now.
You are unwelcome and would do well to never return.
Should you not heed my warning, I will be here,
waiting to suffocate your atrocities and eradicate your
afflictions.
My squishy tummy and I, we will not stand for it.
Your voice will not be the only one.