Picking Up The Pieces

INTRODUCTIONS

INTRODUCTIONS

The first time I met Ana,

It was a coincidence.

Like strangers bumping into

Each other – oops, sorry –

On the side walk.

I had just finished morning classes

For the modeling school I attended,

And she was getting out of a car

That had pulled up to the curb.

I was feeling distraught because

On that particular day,

Our class was split in half

And guided to separate rooms.

I was in the group that was smaller,

But that wasn't a problem.

The problem was the light bulb that

Dinged on as I looked around at the people in the room.

All of us were a little curvier, chunkier.

We were being talked to about print jobs

While the other group learned their runway walks.

The phrase "plus-size" rattled around in my brain,

Soaking up every available inch of my attention

Until the sponge poisoned my thoughts.

All I could think about was thin.

How to get there. Thin.

Was I not? Thin.

Like an ancient tribal chant,

Thin echoed and boomed

Until the noise was deafening

My senses and distorting my vision.

Ana introduced herself to me on that

Warm spring day, the grass just

Barely starting to turn green.

She took the form of a teen girl hurrying past me.

She was tall and skinny,

As if the universe had decided that

For her, only tree saplings would do for her legs.

And her thighs, only a mile would be suitable between them.

Her face was chiseled to perfection,

Cheekbones sharp and prominent.

Her hands: long and dainty,

Her collarbones distinct.

She blew my 13-year-old mind.

And if I thought there was a light bulb before,

It didn't even compare to the flood lights

That had shone in that moment.

Ana could be ground-breaking.

And in the shame I had felt that morning,

The realization that I could change

My label to thin was intoxicating.

That afternoon, I thought about

How much was on my plate,

And if I could really afford to eat like that.

"Eat how you want to look," as they say.