Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Sweat

Niki Patin

Transcript is below the fold.

Silver cocoons me in heat.Sweat and my tongue dance looking to find a place of tasteless skin. Salt leaves and eager afterglow, daggers attack my shins, the balls of my feet heavy.  Thirty minutes are not enough, neither are forty-five or anything I can fit in between traffic or corporate America.  You walk, nah run. Why didn't anyone ever tell me to run outside and play because now I can't do this.  I can't think my way into better shape, rubber grips smell like anorexic hips too small for me to hold onto like normalcy looming at the end of psychosis. I can't do this because of what they see in me.  Slow moving, sweaty frustration and shame it's a black phone femme rock anger, all of this disgusts them. No one ever wants to see the fat girl cry, we're the jolly sort. The desperate wide eyed cows who the tank top chicks with the wide eyed lipstick look at sideways as they sidestep aerobasize their way from the potential of looking like me.  Am I the greatest threat to them? More fearful than the image dreams.  Someone will tell me how jealous I am of their good genes but I know I'm just looking for freedom.  Looking to jump up up without (inaudible) chipping my bones into arthritic paralysis on the way down.  Looking to walk nah run.  To move, to turn without pity pouring down like rotten honey, turning salty sweat into vinegar epithets well (she gives the finger).  To whoever decides that my body is the gatekeeper to my soul like shit can't be fixed, or changed, or manipulated like they're mindset when it comes to the number against their  neck because a size 14 today, size ten, twenty years ago and a hundred back a woman with large thighs was considered a grand prize, now we're relegated to talk show jokes and you think that shit is funny, because you smoke to much to breathe and you drink to much to eat, yeah you are my American standard to achieve.  Coffee in hand, yeah my personal trainer doesn't know what the fuck he is talking about.  When he pushes me harder and I think I can't do this, I sit in the locker room and cry after it's over.  Mind is quiet, body screaming  I can't, we can't, I can't then I realize my workout is over and I never quit.  I can't, those words never came out of my lips .


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