My Belly

 

I just saw an article titled "Why Being Fat is Great."

I won't read it.

Spare tire. Expanding tube. Stretched belt.

Reese's Cup. Flavored chips. Breaded chicken, with sauce. 

I don't hate myself. If I did, I wouldn't regret that second Reese's Cup.

If I did, I wouldn't long to run, or at least job. 

If I did, I wouldn't sit down to write.

If I did, I wouldn't imagine something different.

I don't hate myself.

My belly is my body. So are my arthritic knees. 

So are my literate eyes.

So are my ears, trained to listen like a therapist,

or like a pastor;

like a friend.

I won't check on the article, "Why Being Fat is Great."

I don't hate myself. 

And, I'd rather stop thinking about my belly and read something else.