I am the before picture–

Scars litter my body, and

my figure apologetically curves

in all the wrong places.

 

I need to be smaller–

because as my body shrinks,

my value expands,

like a balloon filling with air.

Only instead of becoming more,

there is none of me left.

I need to occupy less space–

my very being diminished

by means of new ways to count to

one thousand two hundred.

And it starts with counting to

Three.
 

I first count to one.

With one breath my stomach is

Reduced.

With one skipped meal my figure is

Depleted.

I first count to one.

because one is healthy.

 

I count to two next.

After two days, it gets easier to

Neglect.

After two pounds, it gets easier to

Abuse.

I count to two next.

because two gives me control.

 

I count to three last.

At three inches, I told myself I could

Stop.

At three months, the diet told me I would be

Enough.

 

I count to three last.

because three is beautiful.

But these numbers are bought–

I am a victim of the next capitalist venture

manipulating diet culture to be

synonymous with

Clean Healthy Lifestyle.

Beautiful Instagram Model.

Fitness and Yoga Guru.

I am a victim of an ugly diet culture

Abusing attractive people.

 

So I count to four–

When I reach four, I am breaking the

Rules.

When I reach four, there is no unit to measure my

Success.

I count to four

because four takes up more space.

 

One thousand two hundred

Divides into three quite nicely.

a false symbol

of Power

of Control.

 

Each compliment

Assures me

that there is beauty in destruction.

that my body is an object of desire.

 

But one thousand two hundred

Divides into four rather well.

because my body is made of alluring curves

that cannot be manipulated,

sharpened,

and weaponized

to be used against me.