jmhcreative - Tumblr blog

[jmhcreative]

An Original Poem — This one was written back in college at least a decade ago. ☺️

[jmhcreative]

FAT

An Original Poem

Imagine looking in the mirror and feeling at war with the reflection.

The faded scars cover my stomach, a reminder that growth has happened and I can’t do anything about it now.

Many times I’ve imagined taking a scissors to rid myself of this biological burden.

The amount of things I’ve wanted to do but was held back because of that five letter word that packs a one-two punch right into the gut:

SHAME.

My first memory of hating my body started at age 9. Standing in Limited Too next to my older, and much thinner sister. Aunt Laura says to me, “they don’t carry your size in those pants.” I had grown 5 inches in the last school year and was towering over most of my female classmates. I snuck one of my stepmom’s Slim Fast Shakes from the garage fridge one morning on my walk to the bus stop. This chocolate chalk better make me smaller I think to myself. I hide the empty can in my backpack so my bus driver won’t ask me questions.

4th grade, I sat in sap during recess and the librarian sighed loudly in defeat when the only uniform that would fit me in the lost and found was a plaid skirt—skirts were only allowed for the middle schoolers. All day long I had kids glaring at me for being in the wrong dress code.

5th grade, a boy in my class hid under his desk as I walked by to sharpen my pencil. “EARTHQUAKE” he hollers in my direction.

6th grade, a grown man reminded me in front of my teammates that I’m “built like an elephant” and “ran as fast as one too”. That was my last year playing softball. He later became the local Sheriff.

In 7th grade I had a huge crush on a boy. I passed him a note asking if he wanted to go to the snowball dance with me. He said he wasn’t going. Later, I overheard him telling his best friend that he didn’t like fat girls.

8th grade, my parents bought me some weight loss shakes to have as breakfast. I walked a mile to and from school and lost weight. I’m still reminded of this today as “you remember when you moved away and got hot and skinny?” I was 13.

In high school, I remember noticing how much more of my chair I took up when sitting next to my skinny best friend. My one thigh spanning the space that both of hers did.

I never could fit into my sister’s clothes.

I was most often reminded of my weight by adults. I was so happy to take yoga class in high school because it was an exercise I enjoyed and was decent at.

I started Weight Watchers the first time at age 18. I was determined to not gain the dreaded Freshman 15 I kept hearing about. I lost 22lbs that year and still felt fat and ugly. A cute guy I was crushing on came over to my apartment and we were sitting next to each other on the couch, legs touching. He had said he needed help with his homework and I was done and willing to help. He squeezed my bare arm and made a face. Shortly after, he asks “what my blonde skinny friend’s name was” and wanted to know if I could hook them up.

I can’t count the number of jeans I’ve ruined because of my legs. I have grown to despise my legs, always wanting to hide behind pants, and leggings.

I tried every diet and even some diet pills, just to lose and gain weight right back.

It wasn’t until I was 21 when I saw my first gynecologist and she diagnosed me with PCOS. It was a relief to be given a tiny look into WHY nothing had been successful in my plot to be smaller. Not only did I want to physically take up less space but metaphorically I thought I did too. If there was less of me, I’d be less of a problem to others. I have spent over half of my lifetime wishing I was thinner, better, prettier. All of that negativity grew to become like veins within my body.

Now at 34, I am retraining my brain to smile when I look in the mirror at myself. The scale tells me nothing of my worth. I am allowed to take up as much space as I need. I remind myself daily that I am only hurting myself if I continue to perpetuate that notion that “skinny is best.” No, healthy is best.

[jmhcreative]

An Original Poem

[jmhcreative]

Prince "Charming"

An Original Poem

You compared yourself to Gaston the second time I met you and we all laughed. I cringe now when I think about how true that comparison is. It's cute to compare yourself to a great manipulator.

I had no idea the hold you would have on me. I’d go to bed many nights defending the monster under my bed. You compared me to the color yellow and built me up, only to leave me in a freefall with no warning. “I really like you, but I have a lot going on.” The rollercoaster I was on left me in tears many nights.

That night that you kissed me, left me upset and even more confused. “Just Friends” don’t act that way toward each other. You charmed me with a dance and a smile. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you” Did I have sucker written on my forehead? Now it’s been a while since we’ve spoke, and I no longer want you. Have fun charming your way in someone else’s life.

[jmhcreative]

Red

An Original Poem

People say I look good in red,

A red dress, red lipstick, maybe even a red bandana,

But never a red hat.

It’s funny (not really) how an acronym can send me to an early grave.

That plaid jumper I wore as a child armed me with the teachings of “love thy neighbor”. There was never a clause, or so I thought.

How come now I’m reminded that if you subscribe to the ideology that my LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters deserve a month to celebrate, you were thought to be wrong. I’d pick a rainbow hat over a red one every day of the week.

And while I am considering the possibility that someone might be condemned for who they love, I’m allowed to say “fuck you” to those condemning. You are not God. And neither is the orange man you worship.

[jmhcreative]

Need + Want = You

An Original Poem

We were dancing to the pulsating music

With our bodies touching.

The overhead lights were off, but the strobe lights

Created an unhealthy glow on our flesh.

The room was sticky with heat and I knew

I'd have to cut myself out of this dress afterwards.

People were hollering over the music

As they tried desperately to hold a conversation

with each other.

We knew better.

The song faded out as a slower country song

unveiled itself.

The hicks, and cowboys made their way onto the

floor, dragging their girlfriends behind them.

You laughed at this, but I kept quiet; secretly, I

hoped you'd do the same to me.

Your best friend snakes himself between us,

He whispered something in your ear, then you

followed him,

Leaving me alone.

That's what you did best, it seemed, leaving

when I wanted you the most.

Somebody came into the dance hall and told me, I

cannot remember who it was.

All I heard was "gun" and "blood"

And I saw the look in his eyes.

I don't even remember following him,

But there I was standing next to you

Lying on the ground. You were

Still alive at that point, and I cradled your bloody body,

My perfectly lavender dress was soiled in seconds.

The ambulance came a few minutes later,

a few seconds too late.

That's what you did best, I know,

Leaving when I needed you the most.

[jmhcreative]

[jmhcreative]

Grief/Love

an original poem

Sometimes the words are nearly breaking my bones as they try to break through, so as to be able to put them down on paper, a gum wrapper, my phone, anything I can write on. The words come as fast as the tears as they pour down my face. I have found out a broken heart really does break things open like a piñata, spilling phrases and metaphors onto the ground around me, and all these used Kleenexes. My hands are starting to hurt from holding a pen again. Grief is a powerful emotion. If you've felt it, I'm sorry. But also, give yourself a pat on the back because you loved something so much and that's beautiful. For years, the words were dried up like a desert. 10 years of being inside a storm created by some sort of black cloud that hung over my head. Even now, it lingers. Some days it feels like heat lightning, hanging around in the background, you can see it across the sky but there is no following thunder. Other days, it's a hurricane coursing through your body. How come when a bad thing happens, we feel like the world is ending? Am I cursed to feel this way forever? I try and drown out the thoughts and my nose crinkles as I push away the tears. I like this shirt too much to get it wet today. I close my eyes and count to 10, remembering the good days and simultaneously feeling guilty for not being able to write down how I'm feeling. Graham would say, "just tell what you know". I know that life isn't fair, and I'm stuck in my head, with my heart on my sleeve. And my body can't relax no matter what I force myself to listen to. And then one day you wake up and you find yourself feeling less guilty about all the times I shut up when I shouldn't have. Someone new talks to you and the memories flood back into your mind but this time they're painted pastels. This is easier to swallow. And the words trickle in one by one. And you make yourself smile for once when you think about how grief is just love, and that unconditional love is somewhere out there again.

[jmhcreative]

Little Things

an original poem

I held out my hand, waiting for yours to join mine. Our fingers interlocking like there's a secret we must keep hidden. My desire to really know you, intensifies as each fleeting moment passes us by. Like a hummingbird flying into the frame of the window. I blink and almost miss it. The green-blue of its wings flutter about. My heart flutters this same way when I'm with you. I am consciously happy. I find joy in the small things. The puffy clouds resemble the comfiest bed you can imagine. The belly laughs when you've drank too much and reminisce a memory with your friend. Plucking dandelions from the ground to create a bracelet to wear. Discovering the secret to making the best cup of hot chocolate. Feeling safe in someone's presence. The little things that make me feel good. Like you, us together. Holding hands.

[jmhcreative]

Hidden

an original poem

I am a force to be reckoned with. My arms can hold the weight of the world but yet my own struggles feel like too much. Cotton candy clouds are scattered amongst the sky and the sun illuminates the trees causing shadows that I hide behind. Salty tears fall and water the seeds, sprouting flowers of new beginnings. I still hide. My arms feel lighter, my eyes heavier. My hands extend into the earth, grasping at the slightest notion of light. I do everything to push the light outward. Inward, I still hide. There is stillness for a moment, but the fire ignites a desire so intense I am blinded. The molten lava drags me backward and the stop-motion pictures flood my mind like a Viewfinder. I am drowning, happily. I am a force to be reckoned with, I tell myself. I have ten fingers and all of them have lost touch with reality. The chill in the air is paired with words I am familiar with. My teeth chatter, like some sort of Morse code to signal someone. Anyone who will listen. The force is a farce, but I am trying.

[jmhcreative]

Welcome!

I needed a space to share some of my poetry/writing. Some of the things I will share are older poems and others will be more current work. Thanks for visiting!

<3 Jordan