You look into the mirror, straight into your eyes.
“I can do this” You repeat, quite a few times.
Then you step aside,
step on the machine and breathe.
Quite a few times.
With beads of sweat trickling down your face,
you look down.
You hold your breath, hoping maybe that would make a difference.
It doesn’t.
You wait,
Wait for the red length pointer to stop.
It does, eventually,
but nowhere near had you wanted it to be.

You take a deep breath,
step aside and then step back on.
Hoping maybe that would make a difference somehow.
It doesn’t.
The red hand stays still,
too stubborn to drop a few pounds.

Exasperated, you kick the machine aside
Wipe your forehead.
And cry
Not in disappointment
But in pain
Of your muscles being sore
Of your heart being torn
and of hatred they expectorate

“I can do this” seems like a lost cause.
A mean less motto,
A tag line without a logo.
Where did you come up with it in the first place?

It’s never gonna work, they said
They pointed fingers
They laughed
They hooted
Here’s the heavy weigh champion
Here’s ‘that girl’ they said

It was their eyes that translated hatred
Their words that dripped in disgust
They did everything they could
To bring you down
To tear you apart

They did everything they could
To make you the outcast
To prove their superiority
To leave you hanging
Where they picked
Pricked
And pissed the hell off you
You still
Sat
And took it all in

You went home and cried
Because that’s the only thing you can do
That’s one thing that you do
You wish tears can burn your calories off
You wish sobs can tuck some muscles in
You cry and you wish,
that it would all just stop

You look into the mirror
You look at your reflection
Crumbled on the floor
Eyes red
Running nose
You blink back the tears
You attempt to clear your muddy vision
All you see is you
And all the fat that belongs

You close your eyes
And fresh round of tears mark their way
Seep beneath your eyelids
and you think.
Is it all worth it?

Of course it is, brain said
Who likes a bulk for a package?
Extra cheese with a sausage?
You need to work it out.
You need to burn it off
You need to mold yourself
Into the society’s perception of ‘beauty’
To the society’s criteria of ‘skinny’

But why, the heart says.
Why is the society there to decide?
Why is that definition of beauty outstayed?
Why do you need to mold? To satisfy? To listen?
Why is it not, that everyone’s unique?
That everyone has the right to feel beauty, be the beauty?

Screw the society it says.
You’re better off without it.
Don’t listen to a word they say,
Their own hearts are filled with ugliness
Don’t cry, it says.
Your smile is way more worth it.