Lying Eyes

Each day I live by forged stare
seeing with my mind's sight
a face and body, bloated and hideous,
unable to match the image
to the one staring back from the mirror.

Seven years have passed
since sickness stripped my flesh
of its rotund essence,
forced to change my life
because of health demands.

Still what I see
is the portrait from before,
never able to embrace
what is reality with more than denial
that my eyes must have lied.

Even now I wander the ordinary size sections
in clothing stores at malls
while looking over at the big and tall area
and feeling awkward as well as out of place.

Perhaps the day will come with I won't
continue to read into the looks from others
that unspoken thought carrying the word, "repulsive."

Maybe someday I'll return home for hours at the gym
without having the fear,
this change of so many years is just a dream.

Until then, I will always feel a clone of the Pillsbury Doughboy
cursed to be treated as someone to revile.