"You’re not fat."
But my thighs touch.
And my stomach goes over my belt.
And bracelets leave marks.
And shorts squeeze my legs.
And my shirt is tight around my stomach.
My sleeves suffocate my arms.
You can’t see my collarbones.
I don’t have abs.
My bones don’t stick out.
I am fat. Everything I am is fat.


I feel like I’m not thin enough to go out with friends or to party or to go to school or to eat or to be decent looking, I only feel like a fat joke with mental health issues.