Full flesh flowing from filled fabric
clinging to my every curve
as I strut cheerily through
cobbled Kingstown streets.
Confident, comfortable,
completely charismatic,
in my red cotton tank and
favorite black leggings
with the faux leather detail.

The corners of my mouth
turn up in anticipation
of the snide remarks from
thirsty cat callers
about my fat front, questions about
catching a cold down there
and the judgmental looks from
'holier-than-thou' church warmers
and wives whose husbands steal glances
at my generously blessed posterior.

As if somehow I dress to impress
strange men whose acquaintances
I've never met.
As if I should be ashamed of
being woman,
full curves and all.
Since we're being absurd,
I blame genetics.
So pick it up with my granny Pam.
God rest her soul.

Head up, shoulders high,
pleasantly poised,
I adjust my Ray-Bans and crack a smile
as I hear the first of many
whistles to come today.
Her we go again!
© King.Canvas