Fat

My daughter is fat

that's not a slight or an insult, it's a statement

of fact

We could call her chubby

that implies a sort of cute adolescent

body

One that still has hope

that's growing and stretching like a vine

to the sky

"Too many chocolate chip cookies,"

my grandma would say whenever she saw

a heavy lady

Those words cross my mind when I look 

at my baby; her squishy belly rolling 

like waves

We like to bake together and watch the dough rise 

the sweet smells filling the space

connecting us

We often eat more than one cookie

sometimes two or even three 

while they’re warm

My daughter is fat and she is so much 

more of course, I know that, but still I hear

my mother

and her mother and her mother's mother

all wailing their warnings about

too many cookies

I have to shush them and show them compassion

focusing instead on the warm soft feel of our 

living bodies.