A Depressive Insomniac's Disordered Thoughts
Two inches.
Two.
Inches.
Two inches, and it's keeping me awake.
(Insert ex-husband joke here.)
What's the old riddle about a Shakespeare play?
Two inches?
Much Ado About Nothing.
But it isn't nothing.
Two inches is another cup size.
Two inches is why those red pinstriped trousers that looked so hot at Christmas now ...
Well.
No.
Two inches is
No more soft drink
No more ice cream
No more bacon sandwiches
No breakfast
No lunch
Two inches is wondering if I can, through sheer force of will,
Bring back the nausea
And the wretchedness
And the lack of appetite
I hated it while it was here and I wanted it gone
And I hated celebrating every lost dress size
(Though really I didn't)
And every meal left half-finished
And ribs and hips starting to be able to be felt through skin
For the first time in years
But now ...
Two inches.
I don't care if anyone likes/loves/lusts after these curves.
I DON'T.
Not on me.
I love curvy women, don't get me wrong.
Give me breasts I can bury myself in
And a belly I can spend hours licking and exploring,
Hips I can hold on to as they grab my hair and gasp
While their thighs almost smother me in ecstasy.
Just not on me.
More to love?
More to be bitchy and lash out with.
More to be a complete lack of sunshine and happiness.
More to feel comtemptuous of, and behave contemptibly.
More to fervently wish that there was less.
So conditioned.
So brainwashed.
So pathetic.
"Short and square."
"Fail: aesthetics." (See also: Dance: Ten; Looks: Three)
"Built like a soprano." But I'm a contralto.
"Do you kick-start jumbo jets in your spare time?"
Two inches is the creeping loss of credibility,
The re-start of the already over-played record:
"If you lost some weight, your pain will get better."
"If you lost some weight, your reflux will get better."
"If you lost some weight, your asthma will get better."
"If you lost some weight, your depression will get better."
Wanna bet?
It's been quite a while since I've felt this
Miserable
Paranoid
Scared
Sad
Angry
All at once.
No wonder I can't sleep.
And all because of
Two inches.
Two.
Inches.
Two inches, and it's keeping me awake.
(Insert ex-husband joke here.)
What's the old riddle about a Shakespeare play?
Two inches?
Much Ado About Nothing.
But it isn't nothing.
Two inches is another cup size.
Two inches is why those red pinstriped trousers that looked so hot at Christmas now ...
Well.
No.
Two inches is
No more soft drink
No more ice cream
No more bacon sandwiches
No breakfast
No lunch
Two inches is wondering if I can, through sheer force of will,
Bring back the nausea
And the wretchedness
And the lack of appetite
I hated it while it was here and I wanted it gone
And I hated celebrating every lost dress size
(Though really I didn't)
And every meal left half-finished
And ribs and hips starting to be able to be felt through skin
For the first time in years
But now ...
Two inches.
I don't care if anyone likes/loves/lusts after these curves.
I DON'T.
Not on me.
I love curvy women, don't get me wrong.
Give me breasts I can bury myself in
And a belly I can spend hours licking and exploring,
Hips I can hold on to as they grab my hair and gasp
While their thighs almost smother me in ecstasy.
Just not on me.
More to love?
More to be bitchy and lash out with.
More to be a complete lack of sunshine and happiness.
More to feel comtemptuous of, and behave contemptibly.
More to fervently wish that there was less.
So conditioned.
So brainwashed.
So pathetic.
"Short and square."
"Fail: aesthetics." (See also: Dance: Ten; Looks: Three)
"Built like a soprano." But I'm a contralto.
"Do you kick-start jumbo jets in your spare time?"
Two inches is the creeping loss of credibility,
The re-start of the already over-played record:
"If you lost some weight, your pain will get better."
"If you lost some weight, your reflux will get better."
"If you lost some weight, your asthma will get better."
"If you lost some weight, your depression will get better."
Wanna bet?
It's been quite a while since I've felt this
Miserable
Paranoid
Scared
Sad
Angry
All at once.
No wonder I can't sleep.
And all because of
Two inches.