I asked you if you would still love me if I was 'big.'

You took it as a joke and responded so,

saying it's a shallow thing, to say you wouldn't.

I am broken.

You have seen me, but you have not seen me.

There is cellulite that rolls over my flesh like mountains,

and stretch marks that stain my skin with purple strings that hold the universe together.

My stomach could possibly hold future generations, but you do not want to see it as anything other then flat, and fit.

This body is not yours.

For you to say you could not love me if I didn't change it is you saying you could not love me at all.

I am beautiful.

My body is not a temple, for temples can be destroyed.

The body I call my own is nature, roaring rivers, and valleys deep.

It cannot be crushed by the likes of men like you.

While you joke about not being able to love a curveaceous woman like myself,

Saying you can appreciate 'that fine ass,'

I am thinking of destroying your thoughts on what a womans body should be,

and more so about teaching you what it actually is.

your first home was your mothers womb

It was where you first feel the love of another human being.

and it is a woman's.

A woman's body is not yours

Not yours to riddicule,

not yours to joke about,

not yours. 

but this body is mine.