Love Handles

Yesterday, I hung the mirror
on the farthest wall.
From a distance, I watched myself
read every number on the scale:
too heavy, too small.
I lay in bed, starved,
and fed on your words instead.
The curves of my body were funny to you,
and I’m sure you did not mean to laugh,
but I refused to welcome
any more meals that day.

There is no child in my belly.
I do not need your blessing
to wish it gone in nine months.
I lift myself less than I could carry the weights.
I do not know the proper form:
too much, too little. Everything
aches when no one’s watching.
I hold only a pen, a recollection of your voice
telling me I was beginning
to walk with my belly first,
the mirror across the room.

I rolled the yoga mat back into the cupboard
and prayed for your regret.
I know I was warned to count my calories,
but, my God, I should not have listened—
I would not have remembered
the way you spoke that day.

James Bryan Galagate Delgado is a fourth-year Medical Biology student at Mapúa Malayan Colleges Mindanao and a fellow of the 2018 ADDU Summer Writers Workshop.