When You’ve Had a Bad Day

Hi there,

When in the middle of raising your emotions and contentment, sometimes there are bursts where things don’t go so well.  That was me during classes a couple days ago.

It started because I stayed up WAY too late the night before watching the original Rocky Horror Picture Show and then watching the new one that Fox did.  (When I’m writing this its online for free here.)  I still had some homework to do, so I stayed up even later than that.  It made me more emotional and sleepy through my classes the next day.

In my P.E. like course, I lost every match so that didn’t do wonders for my self-esteem. Even if I don’t really care about winning, it doesn’t feel nice to lose every time.

Then I had my Women’s Studies class.  This is the one I was up late finishing the homework for.  We had a different assignment due in class where we had to make art relating to course material.  I wrote a poem about my size and being fat.  It was really powerful and I am proud of it, but there is a lot of emotion tied up in it and my day had started out a bit iffy already, so I started crying when I read the first line.

The word “fat” still feels dirty in my mouth after so many years of conditioning from the media that it was wrong. Though my family and friends never said it, that just made it feel more taboo because it was unspoken.  People often comment that I am not fat when I am, that is just a part of who I am. I’ve accepted it, but it is a whole other thing to say it to others.

It just made me feel really raw and exposed the rest of the day.  I am really proud of the poem though, so I’ll leave it here under a read more if you are interested.  Please let me know if you want to share it with others because that’d be really cool, but I’d like to know first.


I am big and that’s wrong

I am beauty only if

My waist is smaller than your choking restraints

You are happy and

I am meaningless because of my size

In your eyes.

You make me feel small

But so voluminous that I fill

The cracks and crevices

Of every room I walk in to.

One size does not fit all

We are snowflakes, puzzle pieces

No one size is perfect, so why must

I be your definition of imperfect?

To be thin is to be pretty

This is what they tell us and

It makes us strong

Against the cruel, sharp box we’ve been put in by


And they are wrong.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s