Branches

Written by Mackenzie Holland

As the painfully cool hardwood floor of my fifth grade gym class

hit my back with each situp,

I wondered why my stomach rolled up like a Pillsbury can

While my friends’ stayed flat as a board.

It was the first time I noticed that.

My best friends had arms like twigs,

mine were more like branches.

I didn’t want to be a big tree,

I wanted to be a small one like them.

Lunch the next week

The skinny, pretty girl brought her usual lunc

Cheetos,

Two Capri Suns,

Two Fruit Roll,

Little Debbie Swiss Rolls,

And grapes for health,

of course.

I couldn’t understand why my cheese and crackers and clementines were giving me

branches instead of twigs.

I longed for her extra Capri Sun.

At home.

“Mom, I’m hungry”

“You’re dehydrated. Drink some water.”

When dad’s hungry he eats what he wants,

But I’m eating “too much.”

Constantly hungry with a fear of food,

I’m assured that it is “What’s best for me”

I still don’t know “What’s best for me.”

“Are you sure you need to eat all that?”

My grandma says in her sweetest Southern accent.

A sickly sweetness that found its way into my stomach.

I wasn’t hungry anymore.

My quarter slice of pie then sat half-eaten,

As I felt my tree branch limbs turn into what felt like.

Tree trunks.

High school continued

So did bodily obsession.

Mirrors became checkpoints,

Pulling and stretching,

I was distorted.

If only I could whittle some off

Then I would feel worthy.

“Thin is beautiful”

A message that is spread like wildfire

It has engulfed my grandma,

My mom,

And has now engulfed me.

“I was bigger than my friends when I was younger, too” (pause)

Too? (pause)

The ever-changing eating habits

That come and go like leaves,

Manifest inside of me.

I am full,

Not from food,

But from self-loathing.

The hunger comes back like a warm hug

A comfort like no other

Rooted by my lack of grounding

My tree branch limbs grew again to be trunks.

“You know I’d be more willing to buy you food if you went to the gym.”

My loved one’s words stung like fire,

Engulfing the pit of my stomach,

Hot tears burning my cheeks.

I was no longer hungry.

I haven’t been very hungry since.

My family’s fiery words have burnt my poor tree trunks arms back down to

Twigs.

I’m working to be okay with any size limb every day.

Growing into a beautiful tree,

In spite of the wildfire.