I Want To Talk About It, But…
I’m over here making my
Fifteenth (more?) different outline for
Some episode nobody asked for about
Fatphobia, the form of discrimination
I am a bit of an expert on, and honestly
All of it is so hard for me.
The planning, the remembering. And most of all
The connecting the dots
The clear perspective
I already have of having lived
Losing weight and gaining it, the
Unachievable status of saying
“I’m not a fatphobic bigot”
In a world and in a life with a personal history
Of self-loathing, awkward narrative regurgitation
The number of times I have subjected myself
To fatphobia will always be more numerous
Than the times others did it, but
The truth is the actions of others
Always have more impact than my own
Internal dialogue. The external dialogue
Affects the internal one.
I can’t help but feel
That that disruption
Is my problem.
I have experienced so much fat discrimination
In my life, personally and professionally and
In times of great need, that I
Don’t want to talk about any of it.
Except for when it comes out screaming.
I am self-destructive and I am
Inconsolable and more than anything
You all taught me that
The way I feel
Is well deserved, I think
What I’m trying to say
In so many words
Is I want to talk about it but
More than just my chest hurts.
I’d love to blame top surgery
For my reticence
But the topic feels so hopeless—
No one will ever understand
The perspective I have, unless I get
The words exactly right
And even then—
People misunderstand things
On purpose, as long as it benefits them
Or they find it entertaining.