Wednesday, November 23, 2011

A Happy Life

I listen as

The girl in the café

Tells her friend

She has checked herself into the clinic

For anorexics

Bodies whittled down

To the sort of perfection

That attracts standing ovations

I feel a twinge

Of jealousy

For her brittle bones

The coat hanger body

That slips so easily into

Skinny jeans

The body that has consumed itself

To virtual oblivion

On a steady diet of 500 calories a day

Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels

Says the leader

To the assembled

Gathered in the church hall

For their weekly sermon

We nod our heads obediently

Committed to making the sacrifices

Required for a skinny life

I watch the old men

Spread comfortably in their chairs

Lines and rolls

Of flesh

Which they unapologetically feed

With a steady diet of coffee and cake

It is a happy life


Kathy said...

I love this poem so much. I disagree completely that nothing tastes as good as skinny feels ... To me, skinny felt fragile, low-energy, childish. Weighty feels strong, powerful, healthy, energetic, and pleasurable. (I should point out that I'm a lot fitter now than I was when thin - my body just does more, and moves more, than in those whisper days).

Besides, cake tastes seventeen kinds of good :-)

geekymummy said...

This is great!

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