~Portly Parallels~



 

Who's this portly impostor staring back at me?

Isn't svelte, light, and trim what she so wants to be?

My advantage is knowing what she truly is;

a cow – so hefty – not a skinny girl like this.


 

I'm permitted no suffrage, I've no say in this,

she mimics me boldly displaying baleful bliss.

Just a duped likeness of woeful self-destruction;

plump carbon copy, one of my own construction.


 

This replication is such suety travesty.

A cunning caricature, what vile witchery!

Everytime I see her, I ask – “Just who are you?

Don't you mind the fat, is there nothing you can do?”

 

No sympathy from this chubby imitation;

none is forthcoming, as all her limitations

are wholly dependent on all I do and say –

her deception seems to work much better this way.




 

I'll lose this weight if I have to die to do it!

I'll eat – then I'll purge – just to help me get through it.

Friends claim I'm too bony, so skeletal, they say.

I view my reflection but don't see it that way.