Me and My Buddy, Ed | Madi Altman

I have a good friend named Ed.

Now, Ed isn’t always the nicest person,

but he simply wants what’s

best for me.

He loves to point out when I am overeating

or eating something he deems to be

insanely caloric and high in sugar.

I’m just looking out for you.

He reminds me of the times that

I used to be thinner,

slightly happier,

more carefree.

I just miss her, that’s all.

Ed makes it difficult for me to

try on clothes,

pick a style,

or even understand what my true size is.

You’re 5’9” and 127 lb.,

I don’t think that’s a good combination.

He constantly stares at my curves,

or lack thereof,

at my bumpy cellulite

and my webs of stretch marks.

He gawks at my pasty skin,

covered in pimples and scars

and indigo veins.

Why can’t you be tan and smooth

like your friends?

Ed especially hates it when

I’m at the beach.

He compares me to the other women,

forcing me to stare at their flat bellies,

round breasts,

plump bottoms,

and lack of pubic hair.

You should be more like them.

Ed is my best friend.

He always knows what’s best for me.

I listen to Ed’s advice

because his words consume my every thought.

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