Ain’t My Fault a golden shovel after Lizzo

Heard

that the newscaster is really enjoying “Truth Hurts.”

Her mouth curls up as she sputters out

“I’m 100% that bitch.”

She’s spooning her pre-measured yogurt for lunch.

“I love how she’s so unapologetic.”

Even when you’re praised they call

you

unapologetic.

Unapologetic because you should apologize.

Say “sorry” because you’re too much.

Like you’re not that bitch,

Like you should apologize.

Too big, too black, too bold.

And I’m

say-

ing this because I’m the newscaster.

Or I might as well be

working at BuzzFeed publishing trash articles

About how Harry is just your bestie,

and he’s dating Olivia

because everyone needs to know that Harry’s type is skinny, blonde women.

And

I’m

Not implying that Harry is in your dms.

All I ate today was yogurt,

Once I broke a boy’s heart because I thought it mattered

that what if I maybe weighed more than him?

I thought love was equivalent to fitting into his sweatshirt.

And you’re

not

a novelty. Or you shouldn’t have to be.

You’re singing “I make these boys get on their knees”

and no one’s speculating who it’s about.

You could be making out with Harry and

the media would still caption it “best friend goals.”

And how about

the

fact that they are scared to call you beautiful.

Every other adjective: fierce, bold, queen, sexy, is used.

They say more in their omission,

and what they say shouldn’t matter, except we both know it does.

I’m crying because I’ve never been called beautiful.

The

baddest

I ever felt was when my grandma criticized Ashley Graham,

said putting a plus-sized model on Sports Illustrated was “promoting obesity”

and I know I know she’s of a different time,

but I still didn’t eat carbs that whole week.

Said I would rather be dead than fat.

Now at least, I’m vegan because of you.

If not to at least prove that I’m at least not intentionally like this.

One woman dares to love her body without wanting to change it,

and the whole world claims to “care about her health.”

I’m not 100% that

bitch,

I’m hardly even 1%.

I’m 100% buying sweaters a size too large.

Scared of even a whisper of curves.

Refusing his offer of fries, and ordering a salad.

You

sing about being your own soulmate,

and I’m not revolutionized, but I’m lacing up my sneakers.

Your songs are my favorite form of therapy,

You’re my favorite poet because self-love shouldn’t be hard,

but it is.

And if I see one more article about how Harry is just your best friend.

I’m saying that’s a

lie.