My Definition

What defines me?
Fat?
 Ugly?
    Stupid?
I walk through life with pointed fingers in my face,
 A giggle in my ear
As if I must hide myself with the shame of my existence.
Do you cringe at the oddity of my cat like eyes?
  Do you assume that my rounded form is from shoving fast-food into my mouth?
You stare at me as I work to rectify my weight, gawk like I broke the law...
You think that I never hear the snide remarks, too loud to be actual whispers...
  "That girl needs some soap and water," after I'd walked for miles,
      The least of my worries was failed deodorant as I slumped tiredly on the seat in the bus...
You call me slow or stupid for the stutter I have, or just call me ugly...
Do these things define me?
You throw judgments and shade my way, but never stop to ask me about matters of my life...
I am unimportant to you because my appearance makes me spam.
  But really, while I am aware of myself, of my portly frame, strange eyes, and things you might see as flaws...
 Do you know that you are wrong?

I do, but still, I smile your way.
Why?
Because the definition of me is not listed;
 I cannot be defined by you.