Throw at me your beloved hatred, your judgements for having this glorious body that doesn't fit neither the scales nor inches of cuckoo standards that long you've perpetrated on how a woman is supposed to be.
Your ideas of beauty bathed in sick endorsements From a society hilariously blind; live to scrutinize us to death but wants to praise and crown skeletons, yours and mine, for eating cotton balls with booze and two pills, or ten.
Now C'mon show me how outraged you get by my loud as fuck laughs when I dance a salsa on 'em jiggly thighs draped in short skirt adorned with ripples of fat & hey, don't you dare forget my rivers of stretch marks
Criss-cross they go around my calves and back Narrating the origin story of my badass mighty self Tell me how does it insult your aesthetics and taste And while you are at it, don't get cut by the nipples on my plump breasts.
Yes, my prolate spheroids hang proud, unconfined by your thick-headed theories of what is beautiful But sure, I get it how my mountains have had you terrified; intimidated & full of malice you squirm, trying to make this killer Queen feel body shame.
Go ahead, make protests, shriek, laugh or point, Your pitiful self desperate to bring me down a notch & I get it, this is all you've ever learned, been taught. To give it all up in hopes to better understand requires guts that you don't have.
But do remember my silly, confounded hater, there now sits a huge crack in your ignorant mirror made by relentless knuckles that are knocking down your farcical principles of what is or isn't in trend, And if you don't wise up, eventually you’ll end up becoming “so-last season!"