This piece is definitely about body image,

it's basically synthesizing over 2 decades of assholes.

Uh, get ready to get a little uncomfortable.

This is called "fat bottomed girls"

If every bastard who had ever judged my body

were lined up in front of me firing squad style,

and I were given the right to do with them as I pleased,

I would be at a loss.

I would probably yell "EAT ME!"

cuz I love a good fat girl pun.

But there's nothing else left inside

to make them understand the extreme ignorance and mis-spent pain that they embody.

You can all

just

fucking

eat me.

Devour my scarlet throbbing flesh

like junior high vultures.

Like sorority pledge councils.

Like debutante beauty queens.

I don't look like you.

What the fuck else is new?

There's no footnote in the regulations index of my life

that says I have to sleep on elipticals

and suck down the hopeful semen of boys named Jimmy

until you understand my body.

You wont ever understand my body.

I am Miss Piggy.

I am Mama Cass.

I am fuckin' Aretha.

And I love being these women.

I love being fat.

My thighs shriek rough and ready sex

like downtown thunder.

My ass drips vanilla milkshakes,

and my personal style is baby gay Madonna meets crop top goth

and it doesn't

fuckin'

matter.

Being fat doesnt make me different.

Fuck, I look like America.

But loving that I'm fat

makes me a Pillsbury rebellion.

I hold protests in my mouth every time I eat in public.

Picket signs wallpaper my willing body

when I dance naked in my apartment.

Riots Not Diets is tattoed across my chest.

And I live for the moment when I shock you into silence.

Because being me is fucking political.

And you never voted for this shit.

Body image is just bad English for

how hard you stomp the sidewalks

and how many cracks in the mirror you've traced.

I may have been picked last for softball,

but I was nationally ranked in tennis.

And you'll never be ready for this jelly

cuz all you eat are sad-ass spoonfulls of

organic low sodium peanut butter.

Speak the truth here.

Yeah, I tend to date black guys and I rarely say no to a homemade baked good,

but that says no more about me than

how you chew Big Red compulsively when you're nervous

or how you can never say no to your mother says about you.

So just let it be.

We're grownups now,

I think.

There are no more lunchtime kickball teams,

and I already have a date to the next dance,

so, when you feel the need

to pretend to be concerned about my "health" or "well-being",

just know that I've already let go of the trigger,

firing squad style.

Just know that you don't have to count the calories

when I tell you to fucking

eat me.

[APPLAUSE]