Skinny:
Skinny is the goal.
Skinny in the way I won't cringe when he holds me
Or tense when he's lying on my lap
And I have to stare down at him
So the extra skin under my chin is exposed

Skinny is an obsession.
It's the gross, sugarless lattes
And the excited, early-morning dash to the scale in the bathroom
Which then metamorphoses into punishment for cruel, lifeless numbers

Skinny is the way I see myself;
I'm skinny in my head,
But petite in the clothing section
Still looks like death in the mirror.

1200 calories, 900, 800...
What's next, I wonder vaguely,
When I pinch the skin over my abdomen
And lie to my reflection
Promising, "It'll be better tomorrow,"
"We'll figure out a way to eat tomorrow."

But the mind is clouded
And I am sick and tired
Of tiny results,
Smaller servings,
And too-intense workout routines.