Dear Concerned Teacher

How can you look at me and see bulimia?

When my every move is aimed to do the opposite.

I eat, and I laugh, and I radiate confidence.

A confidence that I have fought to hold onto.

Through doctors,

And tests,

And all the diagnoses.

Yet, still you take that away.

Every new school

Is another opportunity for
Worried glances,

Forgotten names,

And a call home.

Always the same.

“We’re just calling to say

We’re afraid...”

What does it matter anyway,

I know all you’re saying is that I deviate

From the masses in your classes.

But I am not my body, and I am not weight.

So thank you:

But my health is not up for debate.