How much has it been?
How many sizes?
What are you doing?
Where do you do it?
What's your secret?
You ask me questions
About my body
Like I control what it does
And not the other way round
I want to open the valve
I want to say it's cancer
I want to shock you
I want to make you apologize for this incessant verbal intrusion
This ceaseless interrogation about a thing that isn't and never will be yours
Instead I just say I don't own a scale
I put a question mark after thank you
Because you imply I looked bad before
By highlighting how good I look today
Because this is not a compliment
When you could tell me how smart I am
I didn't do this for you
Or your remarks
I did this for myself
To stop the internal hatred
And yet that is still louder than you
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