I was fat in Japan
but still someone
grabbed my ass
in Akihabara – Electric
Town – Geek City – Land
of the Otaku – My
guidebook mentioned
that groping could happen
on crowded subways, but I never
thought it would happen to me;
that anyone would pinch
my extra folds of flesh.
I turned, looking for the assailant,
trying not to feel
somewhat flattered.
I was fat in Japan.
I was an American
stereotype. A mythological
being created to steer tween
Japanese girls away
from cheeseburgers.
I was fat in Japan.
I can’t say that in Japanese.
The only words I successfully learned
were gohan for rice, tamago for egg,
sumimasen for excuse me for taking up
your space, and arigato for thanks –
thankful the sales girls didn’t snicker
when I shopped the Harajuku stores
that only seemed to stock
what we Americans – we gaijin –
would size as Medium or smaller.
I was fat in Japan,
wearing my XXL navy hoodie
from Eddie Bauer, dark colored jeans,
simple Birkenstock walking shoes,
long hair, and what I hoped
was an expression
plain enough
that I could pass unseen
because there was nothing
I could do to make me fit in.
Jessie Carty’s writing has appeared in publications such as, MARGIE, decomP, and Connotation Press. She is the author of six poetry collections which include the chapbook An Amateur Marriage (Finishing Line, 2012), which was a finalist for the 2011 Robert Watson Prize. Her newest collection, Morph, was published by Sibling Rivalry Press in the fall of 2013. Jessie is a freelance writer, teacher, and editor. She can be found around the web, especially at jessiecarty.wordpress.com