Ya know when you're a kid with siblings,
and everything is everyone else's hand me down?
Nothing is ever truly yours.
This is finally something stamped with my fingerprint
Something that no one else can have, no one else can touch
Because you can have your criticisms cloaked in concern, but it's me who has to bring the fork to my mouth
It's me who has to swallow all the bullshit
And maybe I just won't,
And no one else in the entire world can force me to.
This is what freedom, true freedom, feels like
and lets not forget control, and collarbones, and crop tops,
This is everything in life that is good and now it is mine.
And it's so simple.
I just don't, when other people do
Who knew your life could be trickled down into the things that you refuse
The things that you slice into tiny bits,
the things that your throw away in the garbage can followed up with a few sheets of paper towel to hide the evidence, but maybe I'll just take the trash out instead, just to be safe.
Aren't I doing well Mom?
So clean and proper except for the crumb-covered plate left in the sink
That proves a lie
I just have high metabolism
I'm just so healthy now
And at first I'm congratulated, complimented
Asked whats my secret?
But then the kind words slowly start to fade
And I panic by the lack of validation so I try harder, and harder
And now their words are all negative but who knew that would feel even better.
Because they say you're too thin
And I just hear, you're succeeding
I cracked the code that so many others forever struggle with
Turns out it is really is that fucking simple.
And this feeling of profound victory is all mine.
Shrinking my self doubt and my self loathing into a number that keeps dropping
Dropping, dropping, lower, lower
There is no vagueness to this, no debate, no second guessing
It's black and white
Right before my eyes
I see my gold medal in the small screen on the bathroom floor
I see my first place prize as everyone around me is not my size
And somewhere along the way it stops being about mere vanity
Because I'm hiding in over sized sweatshirts and staying home
With pale, blue fingertips and a second and third layer of hair desperately trying to warm me
And guess what it doesn't work.
No, I don't think this looks good.
That's not what this is about.
It's about a fingerprint
Something all to my own
Shrinking, shrinking, my waist, my world,
so far down that everyone else dims and fades away
And it's just me,