When i was 15 my mom took me took a doctor for my weight.

I had begun to balloon when they started doing drugs, when he started to hit her 

And to hit us

And I found the deepest of solaces in packages and crumbs and filled pantries.

It was the closest thing I had to consistency and it held me.

But they were getting mad at me and they were getting worried about me when my 

Waist kept growing and my folds kept folding and it didn’t seem to have a point of stopping.

So they took me to the doctor and he lectured me on eating too much (never asked about

My home life and safety and abuse and developmental trauma)

No, a lady knows to go through horrors and traumas and keep her shit tight.

My shit was not tight and I was so young I took everything like a truthed barb,

A white coat meant god and i thought…what the fuck is wrong with me?

So he gave me a pill bottle, speed basically, a 15 year old with the power of phen phen and guess what?

I began to lose weight.

I also began to get angry.

I couldn’t stuff with food and so all my rage started to seep.

So she took them away and I howled, I wept and pounded and tore at myself for those pills.

And we laugh about it now.

I look back and imagine such a thing.

My oldest child has a robust body, strong legs and delicious rolls at the side of their body.

I think of them out in the world and I want to scream, not at them, but at those around them.

I want to say wake up!

Wake up and trust something other than this, 

Come to and see the difficulty in this impossible set up.

I loved those pills, they gave me power, 

And when that power was stripped away it was grief all over again.