Jeans

I try on my fourth pair of jeans, fully knowing they won’t fit

And yet, I try and cram my monstrous thighs into what seem like pin holes

Why did I let myself get this big

Why did you make me diet since kindergarten

Why did I turn to food for the comfort you didn’t give me

Why do I force two fingers down my throat after I eat

I’m not the daughter you wanted

The fat misfit in your perfect, thin family

You are observant of your other children

                  The perfect ones

You haven’t noticed the depression and eating disorder that have taken me over

                   The imperfect one

The unconditional love of a mother must only stretch over your other children

                   The perfect ones

Momma, I haven’t eaten in two days, have you noticed?

Momma, are you proud?

Momma, have I finally made you proud?

Momma, I am withering away, but are you proud of me yet?

But I still cannot fit in these damn jeans

How much of myself can I strip away before you see that I am trying

Momma, I am trying

Momma, I am not perfect, but I am trying

Momma, I am not perfect in your eyes, but I am in mine