- Emmelyn: Eating Italian rocket salad with beef bacon and grilled tritip.
- Emmelyn: Because I deserve it.
- Me: I'm eating gas station mashed potatoes.
- Me: because I'm too lazy to eat anything else.
- Emmelyn: XD My salad came from a box, so.
- Me: Mine came in liquid form.
- Me: It solidified after some time.
- Me: Why do you have your sports medals on your bedside table?
- J: Um.
- Me: You don't...masturbate to them, do you?
- J: You got me.
- J: They're there for easy access
- J: So I can meddle with myself.
- Friend: Ok, turn left then go straight and go down.
- Me: Go...down?
- Friend: Yes, go down.
- Me: Babe, I have no idea what you're asking me to do.
- Me: It just sounds like something out of a rap video
- Friend: Go down in front.
- Me: ... Or a porno.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me
My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.
On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.
When we hold hands in public,
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.
He tells me he loves me with the lights on.
I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.
The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.
The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.
I am not a fucking novelty.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me
This is amazing
- Friend: And maybe if we don't need boyfriends--
- Me: Oh, babe. No one needs a boyfriend.
- Friend: ...Oh god. It's true. You're right.
- Me: A boyfriend isn't like, fucking air, or food, or a washing machine.
- Me: He's a luxury. Like that widescreen TV you've always wanted, that you can show off to all your friends and watch the entire Lord of the Rings Trilogy on, in Blu-Ray.
- Me: And maybe that TV will be a great accessory to your life. Maybe you'll have a great time with that TV. Maybe you'll spend some amazing saturday evenings with that TV. But it's a TV, and no one really needs one.
- Friend: Yeah, we have laptops for that.
- Me: I think we're stretching the metaphor a little too far, here.