The Sweatshirt

A poem by Abby Odelson

Two years ago.

I looked in the mirror,

Saw my stomach,

Saw it wasn’t the perfect shape,

And I despised it.

So I tied a sweatshirt around my waist,

Tight as I could,

Every day, no matter how warm.

I didn’t want anyone else to see,

To know. 

One year ago.

I looked in the mirror,

Saw my stomach,

Still not the perfect shape,

So I picked up a sweatshirt,

Ready to hide,

But stopped. 

I let the sweatshirt fall from my hand,

Because who cares who saw?

At least now they can all see me.

Today.

I look in the mirror,

See myself standing there,

Still not the perfect shape.

But I haven’t picked up a sweatshirt,

To hide behind.

Because I know now how I look is nothing,

Compared to what I do.

I’m not perfect,

But at least I’m me.