Fat Black Woman With No Ass But Breasts That Make Up For It
by Katherine D. Morgan
I have managed to survive a quarter of a century in this Black body, and I would like to exchange it for something that a man on the internet might find appealing. For any unanswered message sent on an online dating site, six more come roaring in. These men only have eyes for my body. In this different body, people would do a double-take when they passed me on the street. They would ask if my white skin was new. I would cast down my blue eyes, smile, and then tell them that this old thing has been sitting in my closet for years.
I rub my hands up and down what seems to be an old Black body. The scars on this body run deep, the stretchmarks running down my thighs like water from a lukewarm shower. This body jiggles and shakes when I laugh. It is a sound that demands to be heard. My new body would take up less space. Or maybe it would take up the same amount of room, but White, it would be worthy. It would be quieter, politer. I would be quieter, politer. I would only be on the cusp of actual happiness, but the cusp could be enough for me. I could learn to live there, learn to enjoy it for what it was. I could stand to go without. I want to know hunger. I want to be smaller. I want to be so thin that when people ask me when my last meal was, I must sit back and think about it. I want a moment to pause.
Katherine D. Morgan is a bookseller at Powell’s Books and an undergraduate student seeking a Bachelor’s in English and writing at Portland State University. Her work has been appeared or is upcoming at The Rumpus, JMWW, and Pathos, Portland State’s literary magazine. She lives in Portland, Oregon, with her cat Ramona, named in honor of the Beverly Cleary character.