It’s difficult to see myself as big when I stand next to the city,
my round fingers held up against a skyscraper.
And when I weave through the busy streets
I can see how temporary I am – how insignificant and small.
But when I stand in front of the mirror in my entirety,
my lumpy stomach, thighs and round face,
I can’t help but feel bigger than the ocean
and larger than the tallest building in Melbourne.
All I can hope is that one day (someday soon)
someone will wrap me inside their arms like a child
and I’ll shrink into who I want to be.
Then, and only then, will I be able to look in the mirror
and see that my body is the smallest part of me;
the rest of me is larger than the entire city.