Only You

I like to walk down memory lane sometimes. Even though nobody lives there anymore. It makes me sad when I catch my image in the window panes- but, I'm still holding your hand... That's gotta say something!
And I say this...
You feel exactly like you always did. Your hand covers mine and I feel the reassuring squeeze. I'm safe. Then sold. I start to believe it could be six years ago, today, maybe even a year in our future- and I'm still held in the same regard.
I love the way you love me.
Down memory lanes, up challenging hills, over the rainbow-
you know I can get sappy when I get happy.
But you lead and I feel like I'm not really following.
We walk and talk and I forget I'm trying to keep up.
We have a chance to argue and we pass it
and you know what?
I think we have made it to the top.
Where the very best viewing point-
is the one we have... looking back.

Two Weeks Today

I took my kids to a party today. Two, actually.
One had a pony but no treats to tempt me.
The other had fried foods for a main course and cupcakes for dessert.
I ate none.
I marveled at how incredible abstinence feels.
How it even has a taste.
It's hard to describe.
It's more sweet then sour.
It feels like being full from the most incredible meal.
It's like "having enough."
I watched the other guests eat.
I drank water.
I felt free.
But, somewhere- right along with all my hope and good thoughts...
I saw you.
You didn't see me.
You have a way of looking right through me.
And I hate to feel it, but I do-
Invisible.
At the party I got in your way.
You were Wheeling your son in circles, his training wheels centering the bike-
and I stood too close.
The way you spoke to me, the way you asked me to move-
embarrasses me.
Pains me.
Then kills me.
And then your gone.
Tzitzis tucked out and wild.
And I'm watching you
and I marvel at how good it will feel...
To call you back.

Diet Coke And Egg Whites

Forgive me.
I crave diet coke.
I Eat egg whites and spicy ketchup.
I hate you.

You remind me of all my insecurities.
You tease me, only to reseal me.
You judge me-
And I have not found it fair.

Forgive me,
but hate has built itself up in me.
Suppressed at first,
and then enlightened.

I drink diet coke and egg whites.
And I hate you.

you know,
writing this post-
I have come to realize:
It comes out so easily now,

Diet coke and egg whites in.
Hate out.

In Her Likeness

I am more like her. Less like you.
I am even, where others are not.
I am down 8.6 pounds... but that is not the same as 10.
10 pounds down is a dress size and a new reward level.
It's a double sticker at weight watchers.
But, to you- its all the same.
10 pounds does not make a dent on my appearance.
It does not rid me of my black robes.
It doesn't announce itself in my newer, less 10 pound image.
I am still the same girl.
Broken in places,
bandaged in others.
Smiling because it feels like the right thing to do.
Because if I cried every time a nasty comment hit me,
I would be less like me.
I am the strength in my sadness.
I am the girl who blinks back tears, and answers
"No, no I get what you mean."
But, I don't get it.
If you are more like her, then me.
Then what does that say?
What the hell does that say?

So Grateful

I am so grateful that I get to watch you.
Curled hairs cut too short to unravel.
And your wearing the jeans I bought you in Switzerland.
That was then and this is now.
Then was adventure and twenty something year olds with new responsibilities.
Now is late nights at the office, brand new thirties and old, worn, responsibilities.
I try not to call you or interrupt your train of thought.
Sometimes I succeed.
At night when your blackberry is open-
I think I disappear.
Other times its not that easy.
Nothing is ever just a phone call away.
I have just one question and it repeats itself.
I have a few seconds to state my case.
And sometimes when we hang up I'm more confused that when I dialed your number.
Other times I take the sound of your voice with me.
I drag it through my day.
Your words, spoken softly- have a way of making me feel full.
But I'll be honest-
Sometimes it is just not enough.
I hang up and breath.
And your not there.
Your words have fallen short. Your response isn't the one I expected.
And worse- you sound like someone else.

Purple Skins and Simpler Things

Bruised not battered. That's how I would describe what's left of my ego after you walk in. As If I have hit my shin and it hurts like hell, but I only get to see the bruise mark days later. Only then do I know the pain I inflicted on myself
Well you are no different. You come, you see, you point out one flaw or another, and only later do I see the effect.
So casual, but yet days later I bruise.
Purple skin blotching my pale legs.
And when I end up unshaved and in open toes- you see my lack of nail polish and stubble.
And I see you seeing me for the first time.
I am no longer the fairy tale girl with the sun kissed hair. I wear black and read mommy blogs. You see me and you see yourself. Only too far gone.
You tell me what you tell yourself. Only this time you speak out loud.
I take it.
Like I am told to. Even, often, and always when I have had enough.
But, you cant know that I have changed.
That underneath all this fat, is a woman rising.
I have lost weight and I will continue to lose weight.
Yes, it is hard to see...
But as I drop the pounds I kiss everyone of them goodbye.
I am never going to be this fat again! Never!
You see, I have been bruised. Not battered.
The mark was only temporarily showing on my skins.
I am still whole.
Watch me! You might never get a chance to see this clearly.

Just Another Sunday

I hate the way you make me care. You talk endlessly and often and I find myself bored, then oppressed and then finally caring for you. You are nothing. The poor little rich girl. The image no one wants to look at long enough, for fear of noticing your own reflection. You talk and I turn. It's an act I know well.

Today I felt for you. A feeling I wanted to contain. But, it hit me- like friendship and sistership and all the other ships I wish I could sink instead of sail. You lied to me and I accepted it as your truth. You wrap your distorted stories up so nicely- I feel gifted.

Well, stop! Take your tales and find a better listener. I have had enough and then some. I feel like I have been beaten by your games.

And I have decided that the worst thing is that I am your friend.

Because, I am. I really am.

Touching Ten

You are my secret.
A weapon I use well.
I eat egg whites and lace them with spicy ketchup.
You love me, have loved me, love me well.
I eat sugar free frozen yogurt and diet coke.
Your face waves at me from a finish line-
Run, little girl, run!
Touching the ten pound loss mark- I begin to notice,
that you have been waiting all this time.
My emotions, now raw, without the sugar coating...
makes me tear.
It was you, always you, only you.

That Too

"I thought maybe you were crying because I gained a hundred pounds?"
That too.
I thought maybe I was more than skin and folds. I thought wrong.
That too was wishful thinking.
I will no longer think of myself as anything but what I need to lose.
A woman with too much weight to carry and when I walk in front of you now, I feel naked.
That too has changed.
I am my weight. The numbers only.
I enter a room and you are in it and I feel 250 pounds.
It doesn't matter that I lost almost ten.
That I live, laugh, and play mother well- means nothing to you.
I am my weight.
I will forever hear your little sobs and think-
That too.