Unexpected Journey into Poetry

This semester, I’ve found myself in one of the most fun, yet challenging classes I’ve taken during my college career – hip hop theatre.

This class forces all its students to step outside their comfort zone and perform in ways we never have before.

I found myself learning how to rap – an art I’ve never learned before.

Rap, like poetry, allows for beautiful language, rhyming and literary techniques.

I’ve never been much of a poet, but this class allowed me to write poetry in a whole new way.

We’ve been recently assigned a new poetry assignment – spoken word poetry.

Our professor challenged us to write on a very real and personal topic.

At first it was hard for me to decide to write on the topic I did, but choosing to do so was the best decision.

When I performed it for my peers, I was met with so much love and support.

I’ve never had poetry touch my life on such a personal level, and I didn’t realize this would happen from taking a course on hip hop theatre.

Now I wish to share my spoken word poetry with you. The piece is “Untitled.”

I’ve never been good at math but oh, do I love to calculate.

Calculate the number of calories I should eat a day that is.

Calculate the number of calories I burn each time I go to the gym.

Calculate the number of calories in that roll of sushi I’ll have for dinner

Calculate where I can skimp on calories throughout the day in order to meet the ideal number I’m calculating for.

1,500

I calculate for that ideal number I want to see when I step on the scale each morning.

It better not dare go over. Or I'll spend the coming hours calculating again and again just where I went wrong and how I can fix it today.

This isn’t a game where I’m trying to win.

It’s a game where all I want to do it lose.

When you’re fat and lose weight, you’re such an inspiration. People tell you how great you look, ask how you did it. “I started working out and eating healthier,” I tell them in my cheeriest voice. But I can’t help but think they don’t want to know how I did it. Nobody wants to stomach that uncomfortable truth.

"I did it through calculated calculations that would make your head spin." I should say. "I started eating portions fit for a child so maybe I could have the stomach of a child." I should say. "I ran so long on the treadmill trying to run away from my fatter, uglier self, that by the time I left the gym, I saw black spots and prayed I could make it home without passing out." I should say. I calculated.

I spent so much time adding up my calories eaten vs. calories burned. I calculated. And if I went over my limit of calculated calculations, I’d stick my finger down my throat, until I felt that creeping acidic burn. I calculated. And when I did, I didn’t feel pain, I felt strong. Knowing what I was doing was good. Because being skinny is what’s good, right?

When you’re fat and lose weight, there's a certain expectation you’re supposed to meet. When I gain weight, I throw on my loosest clothes in fear anyone can tell, suspect or see. Hoping no one will snicker, notice my failure, or detect the rolls where flatness used to be. I won’t lie, I have failed. My stomach is more of a mountain now than the flat plain it used to be. But I learned to stop hating myself and to stop filling my head with calculations. I’ve come to realize what I had to do to look like that, and I’m okay with not looking like that again. It’s not worth it to base my self-worth on a number because I’m more than what the scale says. I’m happy with myself and that’s more than any number can take away.