Magazine

You would have thunk

I’ve drunk enough tea

to drown my self loathing

by now.

I see happy,

grinning women

on the cover of

cheap magazines.

The ones that feature

stories of

extreme weight loss

and crock pot recipes.

They have all lost

over 100 pounds.

They are happy

and airbrushed.

Healthy and glowing.

All fully clothed,

or holding out the

huge waistline

of their old pants

like a damn clown.

No one talks about

the loose skin.

The arms.

Thighs.

Belly.

Tits.

All a sagging shell

where a woman used to be.

That is me.

I have lost 150 pounds.

In the best health

of my life,

and I hate my body

more now

than I ever have.

What kind of calories

do I burn to end

anxiety?

The self doubt eats

holes in me.

Internal struggle with

never being enough.

Looking to men to

assign my worth.

Like I can’t survive

without someone

thinking I am beautiful.

It goes against the

beliefs at my core.

But,

I airbrush myself.

Present a pretty cover,

while the pages inside

are empty.

A fashion magazine

full of ads.

All filler where

the words should be.

Where my words

should be.