~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.
