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Food For Thought
She hid it
but it became clear to her
even as a child
she was obsessed with food-
all the world and her relationships in it-
became things to be tasted;
consumed.
In her twenties she did not date men
she tasted them
and became bored
with them as one becomes
bored with the routine
of every day the same meal;
food was orgasmic to her
in its variety
but too,
this was something she had to hide
because being that way also
had its guilty side;
all day long
she thought about what she would eat
that night
and the next day
or even reliving
a last meal
re-tasting it in her mouth
it all seemed natural to her
because it seemed to her
others seemed to share as well
foods power.
It was a need to take
the outside in
to feel it in her mouth
swallow it down
tongue on texture
then a final act
of it resting inside her
as she digested it,
sometimes bulimically
to assuage guilt
it being hidden heavings
in bathrooms, hers and those
of her friends
but always returning
to the need to fill up the Empty
to feel full
filled
to make it through some nights
eating
to assuage grief
sometimes to celebrate
often late at night secret eating
munching, ingesting
taking in
gorging on
cake and ice cream
chocolate
and potato chips
even beer
or liqueur
with exotic
items like mangos
and papayas
all carefully laid out before her
because she liked the ritual of it
the handing
the smells
the preparations and the cooking;
fork and spoon lifting high
to the altar of her mouth
to her wide lips
resting briefly upon her fiery tongue
to the savoring
the plunging onward
into the alimentary canal
to its final
warm resting place
inside.
And then the guilt
always the guilt
about what she had done
then on to the next day obsession about her weight
the battle of the bulge
of the unwanted thickening sure to come
of the terrifying knowledge
her eating at night
it would show up
decorating her waist line
her hips,
her thighs
crime and punishment come alive
visible for all to see.
She reveled in her pregnancy
eating herself
to 51 additional pounds
and not losing all of them back
despite furious exercise;
ultimately welcoming mother hood
because cooking for her kids kept her in touch
with food
and after all
no mother
was expected to be thin;
and then escalator down
she gradually gave up
food had won
and she knew
that with advancing age
she could not lose back the years.
In despair, kids and husband now gone
she decided that it was not the food she'd been carving
all those years
rather it was a feeling of being filled up
being loved
food was just a poor substitute
And dear reader you ask what then?
She fell in love with a younger man
half her age
and he reciprocated.
the excitement of his loving her
made her feel for the first time in years
love
and gradually over a year
she lost the need for food
as a crutch.
More and more it became
for her a thing past.
Oh she did not suddenly become a size two
but she did become a better her
more energy
and she needed that energy
becoming more and more thrilled
with whom she then was.
And yes, the two did last;
food not so much exiled
as becoming for her
only a once over-indulged
repast
from her past.
poem
by
Lonnie Hicks
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