"Do you want me to show you a picture of you last summer?"
he asks as I feel the sweat shirt I wear
hug tighter to my hips.
"You've gained weight," you smile
"whats your boyfriend think?"
No sir, I do not want to see the picture,
me 365 days prior
and 15 pounds lighter, smiling,
only once time confident in my bathing suit.
I will never say skinny.
I am sorry sir,
hearing I'm beautiful,
must have distracted me from the purging,
nauseous, always to full feeling,
fingers to busy holding some else's
to grab at my waist and pull
I want you to know,
I only wear loose shirts now,
shorts that go at below my belly button at least,
feel nervous at the beach,
say "No" every time he tells me I'm perfect.
I still dream about the picture
you have of me from last summer,
saved on your phone as a spotlight
to my ever changing, never tiny body
You so delicately reminded me
is not meant for bathing suits.