Lately
I don’t want to eat.
With every bite I bring to
My lips
I see visions of my parents.
Father
Was in the Navy–
I remember He’d do pushups
With us kids sitting
On his back
Or else we’d crawl under
Lightning-fast
Before He’d descend.
Today His belly
Protrudes, distended
Over His belt.
Skin hangs loosely
At His elbows.
Mother
Comes from
A round-woman family–
The black-and-whites
Show Her lined up with Her sisters,
All resembling each other;
Brown eyes
Curling brunette hair
And apple-cheeked
As their mother.
My Mom was the thin one.
I wonder
If Her sisters hated Her
In adolescence,
Did they pick at Her,
Call Her names?
They were all chubby children
As far as I have seen,
But Mother changed,
Was svelte, buxom,
I remember Her, long-haired
And skinny legged,
Wearing skirts and perfume
When She and Dad
Would go out for a night.
She wears only pants now,
Looks smart in a suit
With Her hair short and curly,
Face round and bright
As Her sisters’.
They must be pleased.
I do not know
When I became fat,
But fat I indeed was;
Cruel children
Would place hands on my gut,
Say,
I can feel it kicking,
When are you due?
And turn away laughing
At my bewildered expression.
So it went,
Until I was a pudgy ball
Of vitriolic disgust
For myself and those around me.
It was that hatred
Which drove me
To starve one summer
Bike every day
Go hungry
Shun sweets, fried foods,
And pleasure,
Return to school next year
Unrecognizable.
At first I was embarrassed
By my own transfiguration,
Suspected the response
To be the setup
For another cruel joke–
I had not truly realized my thinness
Just as I had not recognized
My obesity.
I remember my Father
Shouting at me
In my prepubescent depression;
I sat at the kitchen table
Shirtless
And heard Him call me lazy,
A slob.
I made a vow that day
(When my brother concurred
With His accusation)
That I would show them both,
I would become slim, fit,
And they would,
In turn,
Bloat and swell
Become that part of me
Which they’d ridiculed.
And now…
…
The Germans–
My ancestors–
Have a word:
Schadenfreude,
The pleasure one derives
From another’s misfortune.
I have tasted such pleasure,
As guiltily as I may indulge
In a cheesecake.
But the word settles in my stomach
Like greasy french fries.
Even as I forsake all meat,
Shun cheese and other dairy,
Avoid ovum against odds,
Every bite of food
That is brought to my lips
Smacks of self-betrayal.
I envision my future,
Pushups on the hardwood floor,
Standing naked
In front of my full-length mirror,
Only to later find
A pot-gut
And flabby elbows,
Round face
And long pants.
Genetic predisposition
May well be like Fate–
A looming and unforgiving concept
At times denied but
Undeniable, nonetheless.
Was my Schadenfreude too hard
On my family,
Will it doom me
To my middle
Being soft?
Can I raise my fork
In good conscience,
Believe in the power of metabolism
And an active lifestyle
To carry me into middle age?
Or shall I be consigned
To a personal trainer,
A watchdog to forestall
The insulation of my lineage?
Could a gym membership
Also buy forgiveness
For vengeful thoughtcrime?
I ponder these questions
Over quinoa and couscous,
Broccoli and bananas,
Soy and spaghetti
(With meatless marinara).
Uncertainty is my Purgatory;
Muscularity, Heaven;
Rotundity, Hell.
With Vegetarianism
I attempt to pay
My Indulgence
For the indigestible
“Joy in damage,”
Three hundred sit-ups
Like a Rosary,
These words,
My Confession.