Rape Prevention Potluck by Beck Cooper
It has been brought to my attention –
by the man with all the answers –
that I am too fat to be raped.
Said none would dare lie with me in all my morbidity.
So, if a man donates his body to the inside of mine,
I should just be grateful.
Said I could smother any man underneath my fat folds.
So, if any man doesn’t make it out of me alive I must have consented.
Fat girls are all green light – can’t say “no” –
not to chocolate cake, not to getting raped.
God, I wish I’d known this earlier!
Could have saved so much money
on pepper spray, longer skirts, looser sweaters, rape whistles.
Don’t want to get raped?
Right now, a rape prevention potluck.
We’ll eat everything: bathtubs of mac ‘n cheese, cake the size of crop circles.
And why stop there?
While we’re at it, let’s make meatloaf of my rapist.
Use his bones to pick our teeth!
And when we’re plump and stuffed,
a toast to the promise that fat bodies can never be raped.