hurtling forth toward my doom
i know what awaits me.
you eat like a bird
you shame me
i am wrong for having an appetite.

season's greetings.

buy fancy treats
you won't eat.

smile on your bobblehead
anyone could pin

you and the tiny korean wife
at the Melting Pot
both eat two cauliflower bits,
pick at dessert,
talk in stunted girl voices.
wg and i scarf
we are real women...?

but you are real women too
only
i hate, envy, and pity you,
am you,
on the other end though.

binary box.
two sides of one coin.

"women are hot on a spectrum"
they told us
little to kinda bigger
just not totally fat.
Brown and i say that as comfort.
we hope it's true
inured to even calling its truth comfort
we care too much whether it's true.

is that why some white girls
prefer black men?
less pressure
than our hegemony,
with gold birdcages
the bars sugar-free cherry flavored