What's For Dinner?

I'm not what you'd call beautiful,

I've heard it all before, the names, the laughs, the stares,

A chubby girl, too much here, not enough there.

"You're fat," they said, "unattractive," they sighed,

And every word, every glance, left me feeling denied.

Food became the enemy, a battlefield every day,

The more they talked, the less I'd eat, pushing it away.

Textures turned to nightmares, colors made me sick,

A bite felt like a burden, each meal a heavy brick.

I wasn't chasing beauty, or a slimmer frame,

Just trying to find a way to numb the constant shame.

Avoiding every meal, the hunger pangs grew loud,

But silence felt better than the jeers of the crowd.

My clothes hung loose, a shadow of my past,

But still, their voices haunted me, echoes that would last.

"Too thin," they whispered now, but it didn't matter,

I'd rather be invisible than hear their constant chatter.

Nights are the hardest, with dreams that taste of fear,

A world where food is friendly, a place I can't get near.

I wish I could find comfort, in a meal without the dread,

But their words are a prison, locked inside my head.

So here I am, a ghost in my own skin,

Fighting a battle I never meant to begin.

Not trying to be pretty, or to fit a mold,

Just searching for peace in a world so cold.