Weekly Write: “Skinny Jeans” by Brianna Radke

Skinny Jeans

The checker asked my mother
Another one on the way already?
She cried the whole way home
and for a few days after that.
She started The Soup Diet.
Every meal: canned tomato, cabbage,
carrot, onion, water, sorry.

A magazine filled with women
with broken looking-limbs said to look at my
body as a whole, instead of in parts,
a drug-dealer holding a stigma seminar
on a page I tore out and taped to
my mirror and ignored forever.

She went barely-not-running
every day, all the way to Skinny.
I held a contest and decided if
I had to eat my own body,
I would start with my thighs –
I imagine they would be self-basting,
dimples melting and
barely-not-running all directions.

She bought a pair of jeans
that were Too Big for her and
asked me if I wanted them?
I did not if I recall.
I started the Potato Diet.
Morning: half a microwaved potato,
and the other half
only if you Absolutely have to.

After passing out, I remembered
a torn out page from the book on
my head saying bring a napkin
or two in your purse
so you can spit out your poison
without being rude.

 

A Pacific Northwest native, Brianna Radke now lives in the Greater Los Angeles area where she is a Director of Marketing by day and a writer and poet by night. Most recently, her work has appeared in Chaleur Magazine, Exposition Review, and (forthcoming) Haunted Waters Press.

 

 

 

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