aboutface-mobile-menu-hide_03
aboutface-mobile-menu-show_03
facebook twitter youtube tumblr share this

Scale, Scale by Julia Summers

Scale, scale, in the hall, who’s the fairest of them all? Scale, scale, whose dial goes round, did I gain another pound? Scale, scale, beneath my feet, must I fast or may I eat? Scale, scale, that gives me grief, may I have a lettuce leaf? Scale, scale, dear device, may I eat a grain of rice? Scale, scale, that I tread, may I eat a crust of bread? Scale, scale, on the floor, may I, may I have some more? Scale, scale, on which I press, will I fit a size-six dress? Scale, scale, give a clue, Am I now okay to view? Scale, scale, whose dial I see, will Paris fashions hire me? Scale, scale, is it true? If I eat less, will my eyes turn blue? Scale, scale, shining bright, which I look at day and night;

May I, may I feel all right? Or will your numbers give me fright? Am I slender, slim and slight? Am I now a stylish sight? Scale, scale, you’re my god. Do I have a stylish bod?
Scale, scale, I skipped today, to see what Julia’s book might say. Scale, scale, now I doubt, what the fashion gurus tout.
I’m learning not to care about, whether I am lean or stout. Scale, scale, I now ignore, ’cause weight watching is a bore. Scale, scale, out the door, I’ll consult you never more. Scale, scale, now I’m wise. I no longer idolize
narrow hips and skinny thighs. Instead I now accept my size.

By Julia Summers, with many thanks to all the authors who helped raise her conciousness, to be able to write this poem. Julia seeks a publisher for her book, “Eating to Feel Good”, which is in rough MS form. Julia also appears often in Dwelling Portably, sample $1, POB 190-sr, Philomath, OR 97370