Prayer for Pizza Night

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

Pizza night.

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 -

Carbs.

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.

Dear Lord,

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,

Photo by Peter Bravo de los Rios on Unsplash

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.

Teacher, reader, writer, adoptive mother, animal lover, nature appreciator.

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