i weigh 102 pounds and
i have never starved
binged
or puked in my life.

sometimes i like being tiny:
my small wrists and hands,
collarbone and the hollow in my neck.

there are times when i crave that delicacy,
the paper-gossamer feeling that
reminds me of a fairy
and makes me imagine flying away.

(i understand now how people can hurt themselves for this.)

but something they never tell you
about being thin is how
very fragile it makes you.

i feel like broken bits of glass,
like the little girl who needs protecting
from even the most rudimentary of things
but has no one there to care for her and breaks easily.

i've used my size as an excuse for being
fragile and vulnerable so many times
that i've lost count.
but really it's just me making myself
this way,
not my body, which shouldn't determine
my worth anyway.

i am mending myself and
though i am far from healed,
i'm through with being breakable.