Glory in Two Parts I. What you think you mean when you say that I Glorify Obesity Is that I am an undeserved celebration a gluttonous mass of unrepent a patron saint of unhealth that I am a pageant of sloth and wheeze and uncontrol, a gasping heart Madonna You think you mean how can she possibly raise her fat face to the sun in worship rather than submitting to the gravity of shame That I am a sickness rolled in caramel and body glitter A fatted golden calf in a sugar glazed crown, That my disgraceful existence blesses other massive bodies entices them to drink from a chalice of my toxic blood and melts dignity into hot spit on their tongues I am Blasphemy. When you say that I Glorify Obesity you think you mean, how dare she. II. What you actually mean when you say that I Glorify Obesity is that indeed I am Glorious because who would not exalt something as miracle as a living body? You mean to say that I carry this body every day like a sacrament to revere the way I keep raising despite a world who does not want the truth of me You mean to say that I am a cup runneth over that my walk preaches a gospel of rubbing thighs that my arm fat jiggles like a pair fleshy tambourines that my ass sways like a well trained choir that my fupa is an altar built around something holy and worth bowing down to Noe, You can be the devil I dance away or dance your devils away with me I cannot absolve you of your own shame filled sins against the body and I will not carry them on my back either I will only be a one woman tent revival with the lights on late sweat slick and handing out glory When you say that I Glorify Obesity You actually mean to say Hallelujah So go ahead and say Hallelujah Say Hallelujah to the back fat Hallelujah to the generous rolls of flesh Hallelujah to the cellulite Hallelujah to the stretch marks Hallelujah to the still thumping heart Say it with me Hallelujah Sing it to the rafters Glory Glory glory glory To The Girl in Blackface at Halloween 2011 Sometimes when I talk now it sounds like screaming. Sometimes since that night I feel both deafening and invisible. How did you know that I’d always wanted to be a thunder clap? To shake roof tiles loose and rattle windowpanes to wake some people out of a dead sleep, while others blame the sky and roll back into lily like slumber. Sometimes late at night I hear thunder and run towards it. Sometimes late at night it gets lonely and I know you are sleeping so sound the dead can’t even wake you. For Fat Girls Who Considered Starvation When Bulimia Wasn’t Enough Mom says that my teeth are perfect Perfect brother has just gotten braces on his top four front teeth A tiny railroad bridge connecting nothing And mom says that my teeth are perfect. At last my quiet mouth, the overlook, the swallowed feelings have all paid off and cultured something perfect and mine. My mouth is a music box stuffed with pearls. Perfect brother is tall And lean eats whatever he wants One time a whole box of oatmeal cream pies. but it is more clear each day that my baby fat is no longer baby fat but just fat It is more clear each day that I will not be a ballerina I had wanted to be a ballerina. My mouth is a music box A small girl spins gracefully at the back of my throat On point I am sure if I can just reach far enough back I could still have her grace I reach for her every night after dinner while the bathtub fills. Until one day the health teacher shows us a photo of a mouth crammed full of broken, yellowed dishes says that a side effect of Bulimia is ruined teeth but Mom said that my teeth were perfect And my perfect is a ransom I cannot bring myself to pay for the spinning girl So I swallow her and then nothing more for 4 whole days My mouth is a music box, plays a low gear grinding that puts me to sleep. When I do not wake up any closer to being a spinning girl encircled in pink tulle but rather still a ravenous hollow encircled in overgrowth I sneak down to the pantry and devour an entire box of oatmeal cream pies in the dark before going upstairs to brush my perfect teeth 1 at a time.
October 8, 2015