M&M's in my Oatmeal

I think you would be proud
That is, if you really knew a thing about me,
But perhaps not, for no one ever knows what type of being is dwelling in your heart.
Is it that evil dragon, whose forked tongue left eternal cuts and scrapes all over my body?
Or is it that elderly woman, just seeking love?
Regardless, I think I am probably the only one who doesn't care which one you are.
To me, you are always the former.
But I do think that you would be proud of me;
That is, after all, all I ever wanted from you.
You would be proud to know that I eat M&M's in my oatmeal.
I don't fit into my jeans.
But don't worry, I am working on bulking up so I fill them out.
I am teetering on getting a B in Geology,
But don't worry, it may get worse.
I am still a disgrace, because I am going to be a teacher.
I will never touch your decrepit face with my ugly hands.
That's probably for the best.
You would be proud, because I weigh 120 lbs.
If you don't remember, that's about 30 more than what you instilled in me as "good".
Also, I break my food into tiny pieces to make it look like I ate more when I have finished a meal.
You'd be proud of that too, I imagine.
Understanding your mind is like understanding the Gordian Knot.
I won't unravel you.
I just know that you would be proud,
And proud in the most antonymical way there is.

The tents you made under the bed
And the games of imaginary basketball played in your living room
(God forbid I jump too high and cause one of your perfectly aligned crystals to move off of its perfectly cleaned glass plate.)
They are over.
No more visits.
No more Mexican Train.
You're out of my life.
But that's not true, because you have my life.
You hold my childhood in your hands,
Blackened by the evils of your words.
You slowly pulled the threads out every day
When we would take that ominous walk to your wedding photographs.
They say, or I should say he, he being Dr. Barton, a psychiatrist, says
That you have no control.
But I give you control.
You probably don't know this, but I am sure that you would be proud,
I can't imagine my life before your dragon claws tore into my prepubescent stomach,
Already overrun and fattened by M&M's in my oatmeal.
But don't worry.
I'll be at that altar someday.
And he will love me regardless of that number on a scale you once made seem equal to the presence of God in a church
But you won't see any of that,
Because I wouldn't want you to know that you were wrong.

So here I am,
About seventeen years after your indoctrination,
And I'm not okay.
You would be proud of that:
Proud in the truest sense there is.