Make the Mood Light

She thinks that she is overweight, so today she under-ate. All this self-chastising is paralyzing her. She had a huge headache half-way through the day at work, so she took a smoke break with a masochistic smirk, sayin’, “I think it’s gonna work this time. I think I’m gonna make it. I’ve separated flesh & mind.” She is a comic, stripped-down, naked. “I have a blind date on Friday this weekend,” she said, “If I don’t lost weight by then, I’ll be forced to finally say: ‘My cunt is certifiably dead.'” It’s been many years since she’s been lovingly stroked, and since those days she has always smoked. She says it’s to keep her lips in shape, but you know she loves the forced escape. No one can tell her that her body needs fuel. No one can tell her she’s beautiful. No one can tell her about the things they believe in. She’ll turn and declare “Exactly whose skin are you in?” This is what she said to me: “There is not an ounce of weight behind any word you say! Look at you, you’re wasting away!” This is what she said to me, and I stood there frozen, as if I should apologize for my skin, as if I should shut my mouth and leave because I am thin. Why can’t I be an advocate? I’ve been on my knees, with my breakfast in the toilet, “No thanks, I’ll just have water please.” I’ve stuffed myself full of pills for every hunger pain, made my self sickeningly ill over every loss & gain. So, why can’t I be an advocate? I would never claim these to be the same two stories, but these are human feelings of shame and I will NOT SAY SORRY. Why can’t I be an advocate if I believe it’s worth it? We all have different stories, different bodies, different lives. This is really about how we see ourselves with our own eyes, how we’ve been trained, engrained, to worry over size, over size, over size, oversize. All this self-chastising is paralyzing us. All this self-chastising is terrorizing us. “Fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices.” Friday came and she dined with her blind date. She became a bird poking tiny holes in her plate. She wanted to keep her own word that she’d restrict the intake of food so, she smiled loudly and laughed wide and hoped it was enough to make the mood light.She thinks that she is overweight, so today she under-ate. All this self-chastising is paralyzing her. She had a huge headache half-way through the day at work, so she took a smoke break with a masochistic smirk, sayin’, “I think it’s gonna work this time. I think I’m gonna make it. I’ve separated flesh & mind.” She is a comic, stripped-down, naked. “I have a blind date on Friday this weekend,” she said, “If I don’t lost weight by then, I’ll be forced to finally say: ‘My cunt is certifiably dead.'” It’s been many years since she’s been lovingly stroked, and since those days she has always smoked. She says it’s to keep her lips in shape, but you know she loves the forced escape. No one can tell her that her body needs fuel. No one can tell her she’s beautiful. No one can tell her about the things they believe in. She’ll turn and declare “Exactly whose skin are you in?” This is what she said to me: “There is not an ounce of weight behind any word you say! Look at you, you’re wasting away!” This is what she said to me, and I stood there frozen, as if I should apologize for my skin, as if I should shut my mouth and leave because I am thin. Why can’t I be an advocate? I’ve been on my knees, with my breakfast in the toilet, “No thanks, I’ll just have water please.” I’ve stuffed myself full of pills for every hunger pain, made my self sickeningly ill over every loss & gain. So, why can’t I be an advocate? I would never claim these to be the same two stories, but these are human feelings of shame and I will NOT SAY SORRY. Why can’t I be an advocate if I believe it’s worth it? We all have different stories, different bodies, different lives. This is really about how we see ourselves with our own eyes, how we’ve been trained, engrained, to worry over size, over size, over size, oversize. All this self-chastising is paralyzing us. All this self-chastising is terrorizing us. “Fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices.” Friday came and she dined with her blind date. She became a bird poking tiny holes in her plate. She wanted to keep her own word that she’d restrict the intake of food so, she smiled loudly and laughed wide and hoped it was enough to make the mood light.

Cheap Drunk
Own It

DISCOGRAPHY

  11:11 – 2011 A Folktronica Collection – Lentic – 2009 The Dirty Pulse – 2006 Disarming – 2004 Stiltwalking – 2002 Snapshots – 2000 The Wage is the Stage – 2000 Permanent Marker – 1999 Can’t Corner Me – 1998 Insectinside – 1997 Ember Swift – 1996

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