The Mirrored Me Poem by Carrot Miller

I don't like looking in the mirror, but my mind tells me I have to.
So I do,
I stand there looking at the mirrored me.
An image of what I want to be,
Beautiful,
Skinny.
But that's not me.

I don't like it when I'm hungry, but it's still hard to eat.
Because maybe that "light summer breakfast" wasn't as light as I thought.
Or because maybe I shouldn't have eaten today at all.
Because maybe that was the tipping point for that extra pound I've been trying to shake for days.

I don't remember the taste of fried chicken but my tongue is no stranger to vitamins, water, and tic tacks.
They say you can measure your happiness,
But my mood has become dependent on 3 numbers on a scale,
And not the quality of my day.

I act like I don't care.
I sit and stare at nothing, While my stomach twists, a reminder of the hunger that never leaves.
I think on and on again.
Should I not eat or will I eat too much?
Food was my first love, but will hating it send me to the place up above?

I'm so tired.
I'm tired of checking my body every time I pass my reflection,
Making sure it's no different than yesterday or the last time I felt skinny enough.
I'm tired of going to bed hungry because if I eat any more I might not like what I see in the morning.
I am tired of being cold all the time,
Of brushing out clumps of my hair,
Of counting food like it's a number,
Because I can't have too many calories or that stupid app on my phone is gonna call me a failure.

I wish I could go back in time,
To a time where my weight didn't matter.
Where I didn't have to push myself beyond exhaustion,
Just so I could fit into a swimsuit.
Where I could just eat without having to starve after.

I am tired of caring about everything you say because maybe you didn't mean "fat" when you called me "big"
But now I won't eat for 2 days just to make sure you're wrong.

So go ahead eat your own words,
because I'm not hungry.
Not anymore.

Maybe there'll come a time
Where my weight won't define me,
Or hold me down
In fact quite the opposite
I'll be up high, finally free to eat what and when I want.

Yes, finally I'll learn to love me for me
Not the body I so desperately hate
But my love for the taste
Of pasta, pizza, fried chicken and others
Things I'll eat without fear or hate
Just the love of something
The love of the taste.

I don't despise looking in the mirror, but my hate tells me that I do.
It tells me lies,
Lies about who I am, what I am
But those aren't true and I know that now
I'm finally seeing who I am for me
Not the image that desperately wanted to be.
The mirrored me.
Broken free.