every minute I’m not exercising

I’m getting fatter. I can feel the bagel I ate last tuesday
still stuck to my thighs like I’m sneaking a snack into the movies.
I stand in line at the grocery store, lifting my half-gallon of milk
as though the three minutes of bicep curls I complete with four pounds of dairy
will make my arms a little thinner.
I tell myself that the breakfast for dinner I treat myself to
once a week is the reason why all men disrespect me;
I have made my own silhouette too curvy,
I have made my own clothing too form fitting,
I have made my own ass too big
and I have no one to blame but myself for choosing to get to bed
by 11:30 every night instead of going
to the 24-hour gym.
if I were thin, like the girls at the spin class I tried out once,
I wouldn’t attract the wrong attention.
it’s all my fault
it’s all my fault
it’s all my fault
every minute I’m not exercising
I’m losing my mind.

Patricia Grudens is a twenty-three-year-old woman from Long Island, New York. She has been published in Pink Panther Magazine, The Tipton Poetry Journal, and Torrid Literature Journal. She believes that writing is so important, especially in times of hopelessness, to begin the healing process.