There’s junk in my trunk,
Once or twice someone said.
With a shrug I replied,
“Yeah, I like my bread.”
At first, I’ll admit,
Those words, they did sting.
Upon further thought,
They meant not a thing.
So what, I’m not thin,
I have loads of curve.
I’m not built like a boy,
These curves I deserve.
I sway when I walk,
I jiggle and shake.
I’m au natural,
Not an ounce of me’s fake.
I don’t wear a zero.
Or a two or a four.
But I like how I look,
And I’m oh so much more.
We are more than a size,
or numbers on a scale.
The judging must stop!
It’s a humanity fail.
My trunk has some junk,
Yet I’m happy as me.
But you’re super shallow
And that’s why there’s no ‘we’.