Waging War: A Slam Poem

I post pictures of myself online.
I speak of self love and body positivity.
I’m told “whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“You can’t love yourself and feed it garbage.”
“That’s about five times the skin a healthy person would show in a full body swimsuit.”
“Holy fucking forehead.”
“Celebrate your body, sure. But not by destroying it with overweight.”
“Being beautiful and plus size is no excuse”
 “Maybe wait five minutes in the morning before you take a selfie.”

I post pictures of myself in my underwear.
I write about being fat and existing.
I write about being in the 67% of American women who are overweight.

Men, always men, sliding into my DMs with clever pick up lines.
“Hope you don’t mind the add.”
 “Mmm cupcakethighs, can I lick off the frosting?”
“Please, show us your ass.”
“You got blow job lips.”
“Damn ur sexy and beautiful. Ur man is lucky to have u. Follow for follow?”

Sometimes when I don’t answer they follow up with riveting questions.
“May I ask you a question?”
“U there?”
Or the ever popular red heart emojii to just to remind me that they want my attention.

As if I owe them something.
As if I should advertise in every post that I have a partner who I’m faithful to.
As if I’m leading them on by posting pictures online.

“If you don’t want attention why do you post pictures of yourself like that?”
“If you don’t want those sort of people following you, you should stop posting full body shots.”
 “If you don’t want dick pics sent to your inbox maybe you should cover up.”

If I had seen a girl like me when I was 16 maybe I would’ve loved myself sooner.
If I had known about Tess and Gabi and Nicolette when I was younger maybe I wouldn’t cried between those dressing room walls.
If I had spoke up about how shut down I felt maybe I would’ve been “better” sooner.
Maybe I could’ve talked myself off the ledge of self destruction.
Maybe I wouldn’t have searched for approval with my lips but the words on my tongue.

I post pictures of myself online.
To me, that is waging war.
Loving yourself is a battle.
You inflict wounds that fester and hurt for years.
You scar parts of yourself that no one can see.
Sometimes the negativity is a tank on my chest at night.
Sometimes the comments are IEDs to my soul.
Sometimes it feels like the world has an artillery of hate stored up just for me

I post pictures of myself online in hopes to gain an army.
I post pictures of myself online to recruit those who don’t feel good enough.
I post pictures of myself online to enlist you in a self love journey.
I WANT YOU to know that you’re worthy.

Until Next Time,
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