Mind Games

Don’t Torch the Skin You’re In

After a lifetime of battling my body, I’m waving the white flag

Me, 1980. Photos courtesy of the author.

My first memory of food is my mother trying to pry the tines of a fork into my mouth. Her pleas were quiet and urgent, and it was a rare thing to see my mother cry. She was impenetrable, violent, and beautiful. Tears are the dominion of children, but it was as if…