• Melissa

The Ode of a Fat Girl

I woke up this morning

Roughly at about…7am

Although I set my alarm for 6

I woke up this morning and told myself that today

Well, today would be different.

As I continue to tell myself.

E v e r y d a y

Today is this crisp, cold but sunny b l u e skied day

Blue is my favourite colour

Blue - the paint on my bedroom walls

Blue as in those walkers cheese and onion crisps

Blue as in the packet that’s in my bin from late night snacking the night before

And when I say packet, I mean more than one

And the chocolate wrapper.

Also, plural.

Yes; that was me who emptied the biscuit tin late last night

Bathing in the vanilla crumb pool between my sheets

Floating, S l e e p i n g

But I told myself that today would be different.

I’m going to be healthy.

I’ll Cut down the carbs

I’ll Cut down the fat

Breathe a little less

Sucking in my lungs so much

I can’t actually breath

And maybe

I’ll fit into that size 14 dress.

One day

Although I’m already thinking about the Chinese I’m going to order tomorrow night,

Reciting the menu numbers in my head like some sort of fat girls’ times table.

41, 45, 77, 89


I feel like I’m back at school

But suddenly I am back at school

I look across the room

And that stick thin bitch Rebecca

Is giving me a sort of dirty look that says

“you’re never going to be one of us”

You’re never going to be one of us


You’re. not. one. of. us


And the years of torment I carry on

As I sing these lines to myself in every waking breath

f l o a t i n g

But today is going to be different

I tell myself that her MissGuided dress

has nothing on my Marks and Spencer’s linen blouse anyway

Yet I see on the dance floor it is everything.

Those skinny hips bump and grind to the latest Kanye west single

Whilst I mouth the lyrics but it’s a song that I can’t sing along to

But I’m still mentally adding the same dress to my skinny girl wish List

Crop tops, pencil skirts, tight-fitting outfits


My wish list is a graveyard for inclusive sizing.

I look in the mirror,


Breathing in a little less,


I suck in my lungs so I can feel like one of them.

But I am not one of them

And today I don’t need the reminder.


Mute the alarm,

I’ve heard you enough times.

I take myself back to bed.


41, 45, 77, 89

And chuck in a number 12 for good measure

It’s been a tough day

And the diet can start tomorrow

Thank you for reading! This is a piece I wrote after years of yo-yo dieting, annual jean upsizing, and a constant effort to eat away the lack of self-confidence I brought to the table. Learning to love myself is a constant race and I am nowhere near the finish line yet. But as truly cliche as it may be, it is a marathon, not a sprint - besides, I have never been good at running anyway.

© 2020 by Gracefully Mel. For collabs or enquiries please contact melissa@gracefullymel.co.uk