Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the month “January, 2018”


my exterior is tough


marked by battle scars

as is the heart which beats within my chest

but my bones

are those of the robin

who arrives to signal spring



easily crushed under foot

you broke my wish bone

with your dishonesty

and now I cannot fly

what good is a bird

who is grounded


Backseat Metaphors

No matter how much you wanted to be 

the girl with the prom date

you were the girl fucking anonymous guys 

in the backseat of cars

Always searching for love

in men who would never love you back

Trying to prove your worth

never enough

or always too much

so you settled for the fucking instead of the dating

until the lines of disappointment and rejection

settled in your face

etched so deeply

they stole your smile away

Foolish girl

Bankrupt Egos

my words mean nothing

in a world filled with

tits pussy ass

they are lost

among the white noise of the internet

a filtered photoshopped existence

of perfection

in spike heels

all signs of womanhood

shaved covered concealed

the things we resort to

when in need of quick cash flow for bankrupt egos

constructed concepts

no longer flesh and bone

but merely one dimensional fodder

for spank banks

I am the realness

which makes your dick go limp

as I am unable to be

something I am not







Beautiful Lies

I will myself not to think

of your lips on mine

my head upon your shoulder

because you don’t want me

so I tell myself I don’t want you

but my heart doesn’t deal in realities

it likes to imagine what might be

while my head is harsh

it berates me

tells me how unworthy I am

flogs my self-esteem mercilessly

until my heart seems no longer capable

of producing any joy

real or imagined


I scream at the mirror

who would ever love

this face

this body

I knew I never stood a chance

I knew you lied

when you called me beautiful

but my heart believed it for a moment

and it was nice




Organ(ic) Fertilizer

Once again

I allowed my heart

to get weighed down with feeling

always knowing in my head

that nothing good could come of it

and it seems my head was right

so my heart turns in on itself

crumpling like a sheet of paper

to discard as so much waste

there will be no recycling

as it’s past the point of usefulness

coffee stains

too many notes scribbled upon it

smears and smudges

where a hand blurred wet ink

toss it in the burn bin

strike the match

let it be potash








Notice of Beneficial Occupancy

you’ve taken residence in my heart

though I doubt it’s what you intended

(or I imagined)

and it happened as easily as you walking in and sitting down

filling up the space

with all you are










they always love someone else

regardless of how much you love them

their heart belongs to another

so either you give your love freely

or not at all

knowing it will never be returned

all the while

adding layers to your outer shell

until you’re a papier-mache person

trying to protect what lies within

with mere paste and newsprint

torn from the social pages

announcing engagements



but your picture won’t be there

because your black and white world

lies within the obits

as your heart dies a little each day

from lack of reciprocity



Laundry Day

I do your laundry

because it makes me feel close to you

The labors of your day embedded

in the fibers

I pull your shirt from the dryer

And hold it to my nose and breathe you in

It’s all there

your dedication

your off-kilter smile

your quiet reassurance

So I smile as I fold it and place it in the basket

just as you encircle my waist with your arms

and kiss the back of my neck

giving me all the thanks I need

Different, Not Less

Some days

the world

and everything in it is too much

the way the tag in my shirt scrapes against my neck

and I don’t like these stupid buttons on my shirt

and the bump in my sock rubs against my toe

and sights and sounds and colors bombard me

so I scream and lash out because I can’t take it anymore

but all the people around me in this Target see is a tantrum

and they think maybe I’m just an overindulged kid who didn’t get their way

and under their breath they tell my parents to “get control of me”

and that I just need “a good old spanking”

but that’s not it and they don’t know I have this thing called autism

and I’m just trying to find the place within myself

where I can go and be okay again

and this is the only way I know how to do it

because I can’t get the words out to tell you how I feel

and even if I did they wouldn’t make sense to other people’s ears

so I rock because it calms me

even though it makes everyone in the store stop and stare

and my mom and my dad and I just want you to know

that I’m different not less

and if you’d take some time to get to know me

we’re all an awful lot alike inside

we just view the world differently


*I have special people in my life whose children have been diagnosed with autism, and I admire their strength, and spirit, and stamina daily. This is for them and their children. I hope I got it right. Much love to you!*




There was one time I said “Towanda” and wrapped myself entirely in plastic wrap.

And he laughed at me. At me. Not with me. And I knew at that moment I’d picked wrong.

If you want me, you should know that story, because I am a fool, and I always will be.

When you come home from work I will meet you at the door with a drink and nothing on but an apron and a smile.

I will volunteer to pack you a lunch and leave a note in it telling you about all the things I will do to you when you get home.

I will stamp out our initials in the snow with a big heart around it and accompanying anatomically correct snow angels.

I will want to kiss you every time you walk past me in the house because lips seal deals with hearts that sometimes words can’t.

I will do a million things that either drive you nuts or make you adore me, but I will never give up until I’m absolutely forced to because I just can’t bring myself to do it.



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