(a poem by Maddie Trainor)
Eating disorder, noun. Any disorder characterized by
severe disturbances in eating habits, characterized by
Me, noun. Any person characterized by
disordered eating, characterized by
one-hundred-thirty-four-point-eight-on-a-bad
(or maybe good; no, bad) day pounds
characterized by egg, 70 calories, on top of
toast, 80 calories, with a medium
banana, 105 calories
Watch these proteins, carbs, and fats churn
in 750 ml of water that fills a sack
the size of my two fists stretching
until i could vomit from a binge but i won’t.
I can’t.
My stomach shrank against summer
self-discipline, skipped breakfasts, 12 hours of sleep
chewed bites patiently one, two, three, ten times
laminated with water to convince myself
i am fuller than / less than 400 calories
i am the last to leave the table
my fit bit charts how many steps backward i have taken
my fitness enemy pal tallies the calories
while i curb cravings with mint green tea
No food after 9.
all the food after 9.
I do not have an eating disorder, i only think about food
all the freaking time
when i should be thinking about my stories or art or music
the creative acts i love make me
stressed, make me stressed stressed STRESSED
hanging over my head like chores and reminding me
you are ugly, you are worthless, you will fail
I do not have an eating disorder, but this
whole eating thing has
disordered me.
Maddie Trainor is a storyteller and artist who lives on a steady diet of macaroni and cheese and neglects to water her succulents. When not watching Netflix more than she should, she studies Graphic Design and Creative Writing at Northeastern University. For now, she sort of blogs at real-estate-novelist.tumblr.com.
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