size: ∞

do you ever stop to look in the mirror-
no, physically. not metaphorically-
and stop dead in your tracks?

i mean, yeah, i'm sure you're kind and caring,
loving, honest, and respectful.
maybe even dignified, or successful.
but that metaphorical mirror is a bit nicer than the real one.

maybe it's not the mirror that gets you...
maybe the way you look has nothing to do with it.
maybe it's the way that your clothes fit
(or don't, for that matter).

maybe it's that moment when you walk into your favorite store,
the one who hasn't changed their sizes,
and realize that you can't wear their product anymore.

or maybe it's because you wonder,
while you walk through your newly built house,
if the floorboards are creaking because their old,
or if the dishes in their cabinets are rattling because they're cheap and flimsy.

maybe it's when everyone else starts to notice.
it's when your mom pulls out a giant shirt from her closet and says
"here, see if this fits you."
or when your dad looks at you and says,
"don't worry. a size is just a number."

well you know what?
yes, that mirror is an accurate portrayal of your physical appearance.
yes, you are actually too fat to fit into the clothes you used to wear six months ago.
yes, that rattling is from all 183 pounds of you tiptoeing through the house.
yes, you actually do fit into your overweight mother's clothes.

but no. size is not a number. a four is different from a twelve.
an eight is different from a fourteen.

size is a symptom.
and i'm ready to be healthy again.