Christina Murray Poet Free verse

The Framing of My Life

I have this picture from when I was a kid, maybe ten years old.
It’s me and my childhood best friend, sitting side by side in an old easy chair.

At first glance, you’d probably think it’s sweet. 
Two friends making memories. 
Maybe you’d even ask if we still keep in touch.
But we don’t. 
And truthfully, I hate that picture.

It’s not about her. 
We drifted apart, life carried us in different directions and there’s no hard feelings there.
It’s me.

When I look at that photo, I don’t see two kids sharing a chair. 
I see how big I was. Twice her size, maybe more. 
My thigh taking up the space of both of her legs together. 
My cheeks round, my body filling every corner of the frame.

I remember my mom snapping that polaroid, waiting for the image to appear. 
And when it did, I felt the weight of it.
The obviousness of it.

My parents never really taught me healthy habits. 
Our pantry was stocked with soda, ice cream, little Debbie’s and frozen pizzas. 
No limits on portions. No guidance. 
As a kid, you just eat what’s there. 
And I always did.

I was the big kid. Always. 
And the truth is, I’ve been fighting that same battle my whole life.
I don’t blame my parents, not entirely. 
But I can’t help but think maybe it would have made a difference if they’d had some guidance to give me.

I try not to be cruel to myself. I don’t think I’m ugly. 
But my weight has always been the shadow I carry. 
I try to change and to unlearn what was taught to me in silence, but it’s hard.

Some days I punish myself. 
Skipping meals, surviving on little more than a snack or two. 
Other days, all I do is eat until the disgust settles in, heavy and sharp. 
Those are the days I hate myself most.

It’s a strange place to live, between loving yourself and loathing your body.
I don’t want to spend my life enslaved to a number on a scale.
But sometimes, it feels like I already am.

That picture shaped the way I’ve seen myself ever since. 
And I never threw it away.

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