Summers as a self confessed 'Chubster'
A silly little poem, an insight into my mind since aged around 10 every time summer comes
summers as a self confessed chubster
Skinny women
Arms everywhere flailing like a car-yard-tube-man-wind-sock
Pointy shoulder bones jutting out like peaks
Colourful, expensive linens hanging off collar bones - Farm Rio, expensive.
Demographics not me
Net-a-porter everywhere
Gorgeous gold chains with charms collecting between tiny tits and sleek sternums
Defined faces smiling with white teeth, those smiles that privately educated women have - equine, but nice
Straw and honey coloured hair hanging over more bones
Bones which on me I simply cant see
Annie’s ibiza dresses fitting their frames
I’d not even get a thigh in the space meant for a waist
Its so annoying having skinny-girl taste
Cowboy boots with gaping circumferences
Effortless cool
Posing with gaggles of girls; good, solid friend groups all with similar frames and very posh names
Double - even triple barrel!
Finance bro husband’s reserved for only a trophy wife
Glamorous places, perfect life
Ibiza, Switzerland, Somerset - The Cotswolds!
Cornwall
Need I say more? Their beach house a stone’s throw from the shore
Bikinis in multiple colours, long, lithe limbs (I sound like a writer for the Daily Mail)
How can they eat their caesar sals, frites and pizza at lunch and not even worry in the slightest about the round mound of flesh now needing to be held in? Painful, bloated and swollen still from the plane
What is their gut’s biome like compared to mine?
The intrigue, the fascination with taking up less space to take up more
To be smaller to be better, to be thinner to be liked
To be tiny so she has the attention of ‘high net worth men’
The bigger the wallet the smaller the breasts on their wife - apparently ‘poor’ men only like big boobs
Tiny denim cut off shorts that slide over their hips as their men must do during sex
No bouncing around
Does thin also mean clean?
I can’t keep wondering
I must keep living