Cara

Cara is a writer and mother of three, living on the West Coast of Scotland, she's recently been shortlisted in the Great British Write Off and had some poems published, and she's working on her first novel.

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Bountiful – Plus Size Poems

 

Plus Size Poems - Bountiful

 

I enjoy my food and eating it
and will not skimp for you.
This gorgeous lusciousness is
mine, the same bountiful size
as my mothers’ mothers’ mothers,
my beautiful ancestresses, who
formed these bountiful curves,
who stood tall and not about
to smallen their bountiful selves,
taking up their space in this world
and claiming it, taking it as theirs
to share.

Bounty is for sharing.
Get on up here and share yours.

 

by Cara L McKee

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What I Should Wear? – Plus Size Poems

What I Should Wear

I don’t need your opinion on the colour of my hair
and if I wear some make-up I don’t see why you should care.
It’s up to me how I will look and what clothes I will wear
and really it’s just none of your damn business.

And if I’m fat it doesn’t mean that I must be depressed,
or so free of concerns that I have let it all just rest.
My body is my own, I do not need to pass your test
and really it’s just none of your damn business.

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And women come in lots of shapes and sizes,
and fat and thin are just the shapes we wear.
The ones who are deemed pretty may win prizes,
but all are subject to the stranger’s stare.

And I can be a feminist and care about my looks.
A woman isn’t failing if she eats the food she cooks.
And keeping up appearances don’t mean I can’t read books.
And really it’s just none of your damn business.

And if I choose to shave, or not, is really up to me.
If I enjoy eyeliner flicks then they’re for me to see.
Concern about the surface doesn’t mean I can’t go deep,
and anyway it’s none of your damn business.

For women come in lots of shapes and sizes.
Our bodies are our own for us to share.
Whether bare faced or in make-up disguises,
I couldn’t care what you think I should wear.

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My daughter loves my belly – Plus Size Poems

Plus Size Poems

My daughter loves my belly

My daughter loves my belly.
She wobbles it and rolls it
demanding that I look at
the wobble at my middle.

She climbs on board my belly
and kisses it and surfs it,
comparing with her belly’s
softly round perfection.

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My daughter loves my belly.
She sticks out hers and tells me
that everyone is skinny
except for her and me.

One day she’ll have a belly
(or so my daughter tells me)
that wiggles when she giggles
Just like me.

 

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