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Orthorexia

May 14, 2017

 

I wanted to be soft and pliable forever

tough as sinew and harder than teeth

like black matte along a length of skeleton

no man could penetrate

I wanted to lie sweating on the floor

hydrangea blossoms of bruises on my lower back

as I arched and twisted

curled and turned

pressed into impossible positions

on invisible grooves no fingers could replicate

 

but you saw me as a live wire not a dead thing

not a form or pose to correct and modify

a body without substance or content

athletics butting heads with self-flagellation

 

and as you watched I saw me too

a pretzel girl trying to turn the shape of something

into the shape of everything

and maybe on some level

I wanted to hate you for what you did

picking me up off my stomach

and away from the stinky stick of the weight room floor

 

you kissed salt from my brows

brought me flowers and fruit

music and wine and light and you told me

like Rumi at the altar of a red goddess

that I was beauty

beyond compare

beyond neon spandex and cute choreography

past the fitness gurus and fanatics

 

so when I packed it in on the main trail

swapped my fear for a plain old mat

there we were

you with your fresh eggs

me with my magic words

and together we made pasta that tasted

more like life and love and health

than any foam roller ever had

 

and maybe on some level

I wanted to hate you for saving me 

but I don’t think that’s true because this, now

hand to heart to pen

is all the physical therapy I will ever need

 

and despite the ketone funk around me

through rivers of my hair

dripping like the brown roots of an ancient tree

you peered into my eyes

and told me quite plainly

“yes, I still love you

and yes, for fuck’s sake

I still hate hot yoga.” 

 

 

About the Author: Galactic gypsy, princess of peace, and priestess of positivity, Summer is doing her darnedest to topple conventions and inspire the world one quirky-but-true story at a time. She got her start writing at the age of four on what was possibly the worst Roman holiday in human history and will gleefully make art about her personal experiences with life, death, magic, love, and everything in between until the day she hits that Great Hay Bale in the Sky. Currently lives in New York City with her Soulmate and a bunch of adorable plants.

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