Lacking

I thought I was a person
A developed, intelligent, worthy of attention being.
Today I found out that I am not,
At least in some eyes, to certain people in my life
Unfortunately they are the important ones.


I found out today, that my size defines me.
Fat is fat is fat.
I know I am fat-I do own a mirror!
I know it is something I should work at changing.
I am pretty smart.
But not smart enough to not be hurt and crushed by the rejection of mine,
Over the size I am.


But does being overweight define me completely?
Am I nothing but a mass, with no accomplishments,
Nothing to recommend her.
I thought otherwise.
Wait, I still do.


However, some seem to think that
Independence, Self-reliance, Intellect, Intelligence, Humor,
A life being lived in full.
These activities do not make or even distinguish me.
Indeed, apparently, the startling pounds extra I carry,
Make me a monstrous, unaccomplished, undistinguished blob.


Lack of a mate (I’m fat, so who would or could want me?),
Some extra weight.
And all my years of intelligent thought,
Friendships made, relationships maintained,
Mean nothing. Worse, less than nothing.
They are negated by my fat.


Do I believe this?
Am I really a blob of nothingness,
A pathetic, to-be-pitied, repulsive mess?
No-I do not think so.

Yet the fact that those who gave me life find me
Unfathomable, Gross, Alarming, Worrisome,
To-be-ashamed-of.
That makes me
Sad, Angry, Unhappy.

It makes me realize and finally internalize,
With a resounding thud I never felt before,
That whatever I do or accomplish,
Will never, ever be enough.
My size will continue to define me,
Or that "issue" once resolved,
There will be something else to criticize,
And I will always come up-
Lacking.