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,
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,
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.