A woman died the other day,
Starved to death for beauty’s sake.
Dead is worse than fat, I’d say,
And I’ve been fat since I was eight.
Step up on that magic box,
Step into a paradox.
If the number’s up your heart is down;
Hey, we can’t all weigh a hundred pounds.
There’s compact cars and Cadillacs,
Siberian tigers and domestic cats.
Even flowers come dainty or bold,
Why must women be of one mold?
Self-image by the numbers,
Even now the myth endures:
You’ll never be too rich or thin,
And only beauties are allowed to win.
Old poem, written when anorexia claimed the life of Karen Carpenter, one of my favorite singers. With the current War on Fat People I think it's relevant again. I support Health at Every Size, and am against body snarking - though I'll admit it's a hard habit to break. I'm inspired by Ragen Chastain's blog Dances With Fat. Check it out.