The Ugly Duckling Never Sat Right With Me

(link to original post, posted on 11/15/2024)

I was going through my folders looking for something and I ended up finding this poem? It’s from 2021 and I labeled it ‘this is a very stupid poem’ for some reason but when I read I was like… hold on…

I don’t write a huge amount of poetry, and I’m thinking maybe I should do it more often. Anyway, this is about fatphobia, bad self image, and mentions some bloody/gory imagery, as well as inferences towards self harm (past tense), so mind your step

(also if you enjoy this and wanna help me out, throw me a tip, if you’ve got something to spare)

The Ugly Duckling Never Sat Right With Me

when I was 12
I wanted to pop a pimple
that ran so deep and large
that all the fat in my body erupted out of it
like a disgusting volcano

I wanted to unzip my skin and step out of it
bloody
naked as a newborn
and finally beautiful

I was always told that if I would just lose weight
I would be healthier
I would be happier
I would be real
I could be oh so pretty
if I just tried

I was never trying hard enough
didn’t I want to be better?
didn’t I want to be healthy?
to be happy?
to be real?

nothing I tried was ever enough

I never liked the story about the ugly duckling
because it seemed to say
that if he had really been an ugly duckling
that his treatment would have been fine
that it was reasonable
to torment an ugly duck
whose only sin
was to be born ugly
that the real tragedy of the story is that he is a swan
not that he is treated badly
for being ugly

my mother tried to tell me
that it was a metaphor
that you’re supposed to try
to find where you fit in
but I think that’s worse
actually

age 12 in the bathroom staring at my forehead
squeezing
and
squeezing
and
squeezing
and
crying
and
hoping
that my better true self will emerge from my body
the 'real me’ everyone talked about
that I will leave the ugly shell behind
and become someone new
someone people could love

bloody butterfly in a cocoon of fat
waiting waiting waiting to emerge
(waiting for what?)
(I never knew)

if I could dig deep enough
past the blood and pain
if I sweated
and ached
and ran
and was hungry enough
if I’m good
if I’m good
if I’m good
if I’m good enough
then I will be real

but I never
I never
was good enough
and never will be
and this?
this is all I am

what happens when you grow up?
when you are told you are a swan?
or rather, that you can be one
if you try hard enough
but you cannot
there is no trying that is hard enough
and all along
all you ever were
was an ugly duck

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