Lord, please forgive me, for I have sinned.
I have indulged in a pleasure I thought I had shunned.
Chemicals coursed through my bloodstream,
Clicked upon entry into my brain, detonated like
Like red and green fireworks on a black
Fourth of July sky.
I told myself I’d only take one.
But I didn’t.
I took four.
That’s right, Lord.
Last night was
Oh, God, what properties have you given cheese
That make it stretch? How cruel! That bite of
spongy salt and oil and the syrupy tomato sauce,
The cornmeal-dusted crust deflating between my molars,
My body processing it into its purest form,
A fine white powder you might know
As flour -
And now. Now, Lord, I need your forgiveness, because
Today, I am less human.
Nay, ’tis not just my salt-swollen fingers and toes, nor
My guilty garlic breath that plagues me,
It’s that I have stepped on the scale and seen
my humanity decrease by the increase of 1 pound.
As you know, I am a woman living between
The Castle of Clean-Eating and the Shack of the Ever Increasing Thigh Gap,
And so my worthiness is my weightlessness.
I have seen your word written
On the truck windshields of overweight white men in hunting caps, decals declaring:
NO FAT CHICKS PLEASE.
And Lord, I know these men were made in your image,
My kind sprouted from a single one of their precious ribs.
I have seen your good word praised
In my favorite funny movies, where fat women make jokes about their fatness
And I would tell you more about those women but they were just so fat
I don’t think they had time to tell us anything else.
I have heard your word sung
In line at a public bathroom -
Where I have seen one women lean toward another and whisper, “Have you seen how much weight Nancy’s put on? God, she’s really let herself go.”
And when I gather round the table and thank you for the Thanksgiving Turkey
I will remember that when Eve ate that apple, you punished her; you told her:
“Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.”
And therefore I will make healthy dietary decisions so my husband does desire me as I do desire him.
I said ten hail Marys, drank two cups of detox tea, ran three miles
and kissed the rosary before I went to bed, but still
I awoke with a glob of guilt stuck in my gut, the grease of my shame coating my skin.
I have averted my eyes from
The comments under a YouTube video of a fat girl doing yoga
And I have pretended not to notice
That the men in the office roll their eyes at the fat manager when she talks
And I have come to terms with the fact that bombshell TV wives can love obese, selfish idiots, but many kind, bright women believe no one will love them until they lose twenty pounds,
And so, Lord,
I have done these things
And I will do them again
If you will forgive me for eating the fruit
In the garden you did not build for me.