Saturday, December 5, 2015

It's Been A While....



...since I've had an issue with eating.  But consistent thoughts of how much I weigh or how I should look or the politically correct BMI are a roiling boil that consumes the background of my mind most times (especially when I'm anticipating a meal).


I guess an eating problem (or would it be more properly deemed a dieting problem) never really goes away.


Once upon a time I was a grown woman who weighed 88 pounds.  I never want to be that woman again...


Today I love my body for what it does for me.  For the way it serves me, a vessel of sorts to experience the world.  I try to feed it properly, to moderately exercise for the proper health of my heart and lungs.  I have learned to appreciate myself.  To take care of myself.  To accept myself not upon the perception of a highly-flawed media, but for who I am as a unique human being.  Self love is a many-gratifying thing. 


In lieu of the older me (and hopes things never get that dire again), I've resurrected this lovely poem.  I guess a sort of remembrance to the way things have changed.  Truly, for inside an eating disorder sits a sad place.

Anorexic 
(written by Eavan Boland)




Flesh is heretic.

My body is a witch.

I am burning it.


Yes I am torching
her curves and paps and wiles.

They scorch in my self denials.
How she meshed my head
in the half-truths
of her fevers

till I renounced
milk and honey
and the taste of lunch.


I vomited
her hungers.

Now the bitch is burning.


I am starved and curveless.

I am skin and bone.

She has learned her lesson.


Thin as a rib
I turn in sleep.

My dreams probe

a claustrophobia
a sensuous enclosure.

How warm it was and wide

once by a warm drum,
once by the song of his breath
and in his sleeping side.


Only a little more, 
only a few more days
sinless, foodless,

I will slip
back into him again
as if I had never been away.


Caged so
I will grow
angular and holy

past pain,
keeping his heart
such company

as will make me forget
in a small space
the fall

into forked dark,
into python needs
heaving to hips and breasts
and lips and heat
and sweat and fat and greed.

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