Hello

Bit of fun about being plus sized:

Hello

Hello
It’s me in my plus size knickers
Nothing to do with my obsession with Mars Bars, Twix, Dairy Milk or Snickers

My plus size knickers
Black satin, double gusset, masquerading as sexy, toyboy pickers
Tailored for the Chinese takeaway, fish and chips, pepperoni lickers

Hello
It’s me in my plus size bra
Looks like two sturdy zeppelins, fighting for justice in the second world war
Nothing to do with my glasses of chardonnay, bottles of prosecco, Bacardi and more

My plus size bra
Come people, my milkshakes bring all the boys to the bar
With cups like these my rebellious bosoms will never spill out, will never go far

Hello
It’s me in my plus size dress
Nothing to do with my strawberry trifle, extravagant cheesecake, chocolate roulade or Eton mess

My plus size dress
Emulating a number made for the slick and svelt and thin
Makes me look like I’m fighting in Syria to confine my flesh and squash it all in

Hello
It’s me in my plus size body
Nothing to do with the fact that I am happy and don’t care what you think
That I’m not stick thin, that I love to eat, that I love to be free, that I love to drink

My plus size body
Big and beautiful and blossoming and resplendent and worthy
And I don’t need your pity and I don’t need your criticism and I don’t need a trophy

My plus size body
For me means love
I don’t need no judgement
From below or above.

©2020 Sarah Drury

Skinny Culture

WARNING: mild swearing

I would love to be slim, but how much of this desire is influenced by the media ‘Skinny Culture’. I accept my curves but when i was trying to think of curvy icons they were few and far between. What is this obsession with being thin?

What is this skinny culture?
What is this ‘big is beautiful’ but not in my magazine?
What is this ‘big is benevolent’ but not on my TV?
What is this ‘big is brilliant’ but not plastered all over my advertising campaign?
What is this ‘big is bountiful’ but not in my blockbuster movie?

Why are the glossy pages always draped with bronzed, emaciated size 4 bikini bods
Hanging off the arms of equally tanned, gorilla like, mankini gods
Do they think us plus sized women should be kept in a dank, dark kennel like shameful dogs
Or forced into fat loss boot camps with the reality TV obesity quads
Why don’t they just lock us into rejection, objection, dejection pods
And feed us scraps of bacon and lard like a bunch of hungry, fat shamed hogs.

And why, when I think of inspirational, plus sized icons on TV
Can I only think of one or two that truly fire me up and inspire me
Jo brand, plus sized, proud and hilariously funny
Doesn’t give a toss about chocolate, pork pies, cream cakes or obesity
And good old Kathy Burke with her I don’t give a shit ideology
And Victoria Wood, queen of chubby send ups and plus sized parody
And I wish they were me
I wish they were me

I love the cinema
But if I have to sit through one more skinny heroine film at my leisure
I can’t say it’s for my joyful viewing pleasure
For the film industry know what kind of ‘perfect’ women they treasure
And it aint people like me with a blossoming size 24 body
If I were draped over Johnny Depp he would have a major coronary
Imagine me in Marilyn Monroe’s infamous white dress
Billowing up, my wobbly curves trying to impress
I’d need a marquee of white fabric and a holy priest to bless
The people who’d had an eyeful, who I’d managed to emotionally distress
With my big knickers and my no entry psychological sticker
My pulse getting quicker, needing some heavy liquor
Bravado getting slicker, my f*ck you attitude kicker

I will wear a short skirt if I f*cking want to
My legs are as viable as your skinny pins
I know we’ll never be twins. I know I would love to be svelte and stick thin
But it’s not really necessary.
Big women are yielding and sexy; big women are people with hearts like oceans
So, let’s start making a massive commotion
Let’s begin this ‘we are here, and we are real’ promotion
Let’s set in motion our love for self, the notion
That chub is the new size 4, that cream cakes are the new Weight Watchers
That we rule, we got this thing
For fat is fabulous
Big is beautiful
And odes of admiration for all you bigger women out there
We resplendently sing!

©2020 Sarah Drury

A Coffee and a Cake in Costa

I Feel as though my poetry has been getting a bit heavy, political and depressing lately and that’s not the kind of person that I am, so here’s something a bit lighter…

I’m getting rather larger
My sugar is getting as high as a pensioner on weed
Or a gang of middle aged women, experimenting with speed
If I cut myself it would be glucose that I would bleed
And I’m acting like a politician with the gluttony and greed.

It’s my weekly trip to Costa
Which usually feels like a luxury
With my two shot latte and slice of carrot cake
And side of cream, calories of excessive buggary
But with this atrocious health scare discovery
And this blood test, blood test drudgery
Eating their cakes feels like wanton adultery
Its hell, starving myself, trying for a miraculous recovery.

So a two shot latte and a plate of nothing
Fresh air does not care how you fare
But my fat butt says ‘do it, you dare’
And my tummy agrees
As it sits on my knees
Citing weight watchers fees.
But I wear baggy clothes so its baggage that nobody sees.

I don’t do it for you, or for them
Or for notions of beauty or size, though my form does capsize
In the pool, though most people are nice
I don’t do it for the Instagram filter, duck pout prize.
Imagine if filters showed the ugliness of people, now there’s a surprise.

I’m doing it for me
For my kid
For the dangers to my health of which I want rid
I don’t want a ‘mum has died of diabetes’ kid
A ‘mum who is too obese to go outside’ kid
An ‘other kids take the piss’ kid
A ‘mum laying on a mortuary slab’ kid.

I’m doing it for me
And my kid

©2020 Sarah Drury

Fat Club

Fat club

My tummy was hanging like a butcher’s apron
My arse was saggy like an old bin bag
My tits were touching my belly button
And my chin was wobbling like an old, sad hag.

So I decided to go to Fat Club.

I walked through the door to be greeted by
Ladies of stature and ample size
Wobbling all over the meeting room
They looked at me without a hint of surprise.

I was home.

Home with the ladies all big and bold
The sisterhood of the more plus sized knickers
And bras like hammocks with boulders in
With the chocolate munchers and cream cake pickers.
Dreaming of tiramisu and crème brulee
Fantasies of a cream trifle orgy
Swimming around in a sea of toffee
Indulging in passions, pseudo-sexual glory!

Weigh in time!

One by one the victims were called to the scales
Like prisoners waiting their turn to be hanged
The suspense, so intense, no pretence was allowed
Would I have gained a pound? Would I end up harangued?
And the ladies they waited, they twitched in their chairs
As they looked shit scared with their faces like death
And they learned of their fate, if they’d put on weight
Or lost a few stone from smoking that meth.
And it was my turn now, so I stepped on the scales
And I shit myself as the verdict was revealed
And the woman she looked with a face like a fart
As she waggled her finger, my fate was sealed.

Rabbit food!

And I sit here and munch on my lettuce and cucumber
Cherry tomatoes don’t taste like a cake
And the low fat yoghurt tastes like puke
And the slimming world meals are a real piss take
Its only week one and I’m starving to death
As my son stuffs a pizza and gloats like a dick
And my stomach is grumbling, resilience is failing
If I eat much more salad, I’m going to be sick.

So, to fat club I’m giving the middle finger
I’ll continue to fill up my plus size bra
And my stomach can flourish in its lycra knickers
And my tits can wobble near and far
For I don’t need to be like a string of piss
I am fat, I am proud, and I’m a fucking star!

© Sarah Drury 2019