Fat Rolls

Funny, isn't it?
How a number on a scale defines us,
how the gap between our legs invites us,
To either starve another day, or eat a little bite.
Funny, isn't it?
How we preach of inclusivity,
And speak of equal rights,
But we come home after a long day and we hate what we see.
Because we listen to what our brain invites as the perfect body type
And what the TV tells us when we turn it on late at night.
And what the pictures on our phones keep showing, how a plus-sized model isn't really even plus-sized.
How a woman who is unhealthy but skinny is praised over a healthy woman slightly overweight.
Funny, isn't it?
That these rolls that I have gained along with the curves of my age categorize me,
And change me,
And make me feel ashamed.
Funny, isn't it?
How, in a world so evolved we still think women should be tall.
And have long hair and have white teeth and have clear skin and no curves at all.
Funny, isn't it?
How the women they have shown me since I was just a child,
Were women who had bodies that I could never have.
Funny, isn't it?
How we compare and contrast and poke and prod until we have nothing left but skin and bones, and then even that starts to disappear.
Because we are not women anymore.
We are models and we are "beautiful" but if beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I refuse to see beauty anymore.
I refuse to see a figure as a factor in a person's worth
And I refuse to skip a meal because I am told I should be 20 pounds lighter.
Funny, isn't it?
How we classify a person's worth on what they have or haven't eaten in a day.
Funny, isn't it?
I have fat rolls on my body, and yet I am still happy.