Self Portrait as a New Years Resolution to Not Lose Weight

This year I was diagnosed with the best form of
amnesia that doctors have ever seen.
In my new bullet journal
I can’t be bothered to recall my calories.

Tracking your food intake
can lead to a windy road
of facing the toilet the wrong way,

the single use of a toothbrush to make you
flush your meal
away.

My bullet journal will be filled with self care;
let’s watch movies together and order a pizza per person,
walk in the rain, dance in the tightest clothes

that hugs our rolls
to Lady Gaga in the living room.

call my best friends while with fingers wrapped
around a warm beverage
with extra marshmallows
that form like snow on top.

Forget those extra
calories
& remember to forget what
'people' think.

Everyday I list my gratitudes:
daily jumps
in puddles, baked pasta cooked by
my wife’s tender hands
& extra cheese.

I am an undieter: I am not one
to become someone you don’t even
recognize:
a sign that blows in the wind
a declaration of its vacancy.

It is occupied by solely
Me.
An undieter means you buy the chips
& eat them because you want to.

My favourites are
salt and vinegar,
crammed in my mouth
until my tongue
goes numb.

Ignore those
comments
that the shirts bought for me
in the wrong size

covers up my ’ problem
areas’.
As an undieter, I have zero
‘problem areas.'

I used to spend five minutes
at my favourite coffee shop
as if it was a presidential debate
to treat myself to the decadent swirl of
whipped cream.

Now I don’t even notice the side
glances
from the barista, from myself, a whisper
of you’ve been good this week
my mind says,

& why deprive myself from the tiny joys in life?

I remind myself
I am worth it,
Like the way my wife kisses me
In the morning when I am half 

awake.
How she loves me so much,

I wrap my arms around myself
like an Octopus with ten extra tentacles.

You may be shy about it at first,
but find your sweatpants.
Today we call exercise
joyful movement.

It is not to reach a number
on the scale.
No more tears from what
that number is
for now it speaks solely with permission.

I am grateful for the best newfound amnesia
& how my number on a scale
is not tied to worth. 

image ID: smiling person with curly hair on one side brushed over to the other side. She is wearing a black sweater with white xes on it.

Sita Gaia (she/they) is the author of the Chapbook "Knocking on The Body's Door: Poems to Read on The Bathroom Floor
(Prolific Pulse Press LLC 2021). It has received a score of 4.5 on GoodReads. They have also been featured in Harness Magazine,
Last Lines Lit, Kissing Dynamite, and Anti Heroin Chic. They drink wayyy too much coffee, and are obsessed with owls and hummingbirds.
They reside in Vancouver, BC with their wife. Connect with them on Instagram @sitagaia_poetry.