My fat body
does not have curves;
it has speedbumps.
I am not your picturesque fatty
as they say
because my stretchmarks
climb my stomach like vines
on a tree watered by blood.
My texture isn’t fluffy,
as you might prefer it be.
My body is rough -
built like an armory;
long ago, it is
covered in forests of stories.
My face naturally glows, but
not like a blushing bride. Rather;
hungry, bubbling passionate red-
fed boiling holy water and
prayed upon, like rosary beads.