I measured each spoonful of Mexican cheese
and sprinkled it, like a surgeon, over a bubbling omelette
Next was the avocado, sliced in smooth crescents
of green because that's the good kind of fat,
my sister said, not the bad kind
I can still see my mother's lips twisting to form the
"f" in "fat."
You're not fat, she said, Why do you think you're fat?
I don't want to fight her,
I just want to fit into my prom dress
Satin red with a knotted sash, it will cling to me
like a hand dipped in wax
And like wax, the curve above my hips must be melted away.