by Geraldine King
My fat belly reminds me of whale blubber as your razor sharp abs cut across it, wounding me but at the same time invigorating me as I hear the “slap, slap, slap” and I lay here and wonder if you are as grossed out by me as I am by me.
I keep the lights on not because I am confident, but because I want a constant reminder of the dimples, stretch marks and loose skin in order to continuously punish myself for my gluttony.
When you can’t bend me in half because my stomach gets in the way, I want to break my own back in a passion-filled moment of forced contortionism in the name of fantasy and desire.
I watch you from the bed as you admire yourself in the mirror and I wonder if you ever stare at my body in the same amazement…and satisfaction. I hide my insecurities under all these layers of fat.
Brick by gelatinous brick.
Geraldine King is Anishinaabekwe from Kiashke Zaaging Anishinaabek (Gull Bay First Nation). Geraldine is a Master’s student in the Indigenous Governance Program at the University of Victoria where her primary research interests are centred on Indigenous erotica as viable resurgent governance praxis. Geraldine is the Managing Editor of Intercontinental Cry Magazine, a publication of the Centre for World Indigenous Studies.