Don’t tell me I’m cute….for a fat chick
Don’t tell me that I wear my size well
Don’t steer me towards the muumuus because clearly I need to hide my curves
(I came for the fishnets, by the way)
Don’t ask me if I’d rather have sex with the lights off
Don’t do me any favors by ordering a salad
Don’t send me inspirational photos about determination and hard work
(I’m already working harder than you)
Tell me how cute I am, period.
Show me the sexy dresses in the store
Keep all the lights on when we’re making love. Witness every curve, jiggle and strech mark. I want you to see this poetry in motion.
Don’t order that salad… I’m eating steak.
Take pictures of me. Take pictures with me.
And when I’m feeling low, when these pounds start to weigh a little more, remind me.
Remind me how amazing I am. How intelligent. How sexy. How beautiful I am,inside and out.
Don’t call me cute…for a fat chick.
My redeeming qualities far outweigh any numbers on a scale.