mom says
content warnings: eating disorders
I am eight and I am home sick watching fuzzy commercials for weight loss programs on the satellite TV.
Maybe this diet will actually work,
Mom says,
The others haven't and I have this huge belly I need to get rid of
Oh, one hundred and twenty pounds, that's too much, I was only one hundred and fifteen when I had you
I am eleven and depressed and the scabs on my wrist are itchy but I am so excited about my hips getting wide enough to fit into a size 7. I am a woman now.
You shouldn't eat that,
Mom says,
it's bad for you
Have you gained weight? You should try exercising, it's good for you
Have you lost weight? You look good
Wow, a lot of bread, huh?
You know you'll get diabetes one day too, we all get it in the family
I am nineteen and I weigh one hundred and fifteen pounds, and I want to walk the city over and over and over and over for wanderlust and adventure. My legs are strong and thick like trees rooting me to the ground, they shake when I walk like an earthquake shivers the trunks. I am powerful.
You're looking a little fat,
Mom says,
Maybe you should reduce your portion size
Try walking for six miles, it might help
Take up running again? You like running
I am twenty three and weigh one hundred and seventy pounds. I have seen more of the world than most can dream of. I have seen more of history than many can comprehend. I can lift heavy rocks and dig deep trenches. I can run and do martial arts and I want to be stronger.
Have you thought about diabetes,
Mom says,
You're getting really heavy, and you should be careful
Another piece of bread? Why not more salad?
I am twenty four and one hundred and sixty pounds. I am struggling to finish college. I want to get a good job. I don't run much any more. I watch my portion sizes. I balance my macro nutrients. I put myself at a calorie deficit. I visit the gym three times a week. I am not strong. I cannot lift heavy rocks and dig deep trenches. My legs are still trunks, rooted to the ground as the rest of me begins to sway.
Wow, you look good,
Mom says,
Have you lost weight?
Yes? Wow, I should try your diet
I am twenty seven and I weigh somewhere under one hundred and thirty five pounds. I threw out my scale. I am down to one meal a day. I curse my existence. I desperately want to eat. When I eat, I hate myself. Reaching for anything that isn't a salad fills me with unrelenting shame. Eating any food at all makes me insult myself until I am on the shower floor crying. I reject my loving boyfriend's cooking. My therapist asks how much weight I've lost. My clothes are looser. I think I'm happy about that.
I hope my thick, strong roots are still dug deep, deep down as my branches begin to sway.