Ode to My FUPA
You’ve been here all along, unnoticed and unnamed.
But now noticed, instead of welcoming joy,
they are reducing you to acronyms
like you are some thing separate from myself.
Cosmo has an article
Describing what exercises to do and food to eat
Explaining how to get rid of you,
as if I could take you off
like you were a shirt,
instead of something under my skin.
But you ARE a part of me,
and thus worthy of love.
Not some
thing
to get rid of
at all.
You are mine.
You are me.
You are loved.
