I will not buy a scale for my home
Because the number affects me.
But, “it is just a number.”
I hate numbers.
I hate how they define me.
Numbers are labels.
“Numbers don’t define you.”
“It is just a number.”
I am not a size 2.
I am not 100 pounds.
Numbers.
I hate numbers.
“Sticks aren’t attractive.”
Neither are fat girls.
I do not fit into a category
But I am still a number.
And still, my number is not good enough.
I am not number 1.
I am not average.
But I am still a number,
Just a number.
I saw the scale at the doctor’s office.
I stood on that scale.
I watched the number.
It changed. It shifted.
It rose.
But “it is just a number.”
I am that number.
I can feel my skin crawl.
I can feel my throat tighten.
I feel it in my stomach, down to my core.
I am that number.
“But it is just a number.”
YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!
I am THAT number.
I will never be the right number.
I do not fit in my own skin.
It needs to come off.
The clothes need to come off.
What size are you?
The tape measure twirls around my waist and around my throat.
26..27..28…
Numbers. Numbers.
Numbers.
I’m choking. I can’t breathe.
This noose is too tight.
I can’t breathe.
Help me, please!
“Take it off.”
I CAN’T TAKE IT OFF!
I am banging on the glass.
It won’t break.
I can’t take it off.
I can’t breathe.
“Numbers don’t define you.”
Show me where.
Show me where they don’t define me.
Show me how.
Show me how they don’t define me.
I don’t fit.
My number will never be the right number.
I will never buy a scale for my home,
Because I hate numbers.