“She is her own emotions,” he says.
“I know. And I can’t be that way. That’s not me.” She argues.
There are two other people sitting and eating in Golden Star.
A woman and a man. They are sitting at one table.
We are all eating hamburgers.
I came in here because I thought I was meeting my mother for lunch and for some reason I remember her taking me here previously, a long time ago. I remember her enjoying it here.
I chose Golden Star, a small, covered in dirt diner claiming to sell “Chinese-Canadian cuisine”, because I thought it was her place.
I ordered a hamburger because I thought it would be fun to eat a hamburger with my mom.
Mom just cancelled.
I am not hungry.
I am eating the hamburger.
I am eating it just to get rid of it.
I have just learned that I usually eat to get rid of things.
Enjoy the burger, Rachel.
Food is all of a sudden disgusting.
He picks up his phone, loudly yells HELLO three times and proclaims to his lunch mate “she always pocket dials me.”
Who is this man and why does he make bold declarations about the women he’s known?
From two tables down, he smiles and wishes at me, “bless you”.
I thank him with laughter.
I wonder if later he’ll tell another woman “she sneezes carelessly”.
I want to vomit the burger. It is sitting in my throat.
Where do I pay?
The clanking of plates and the clanking of plates and of course this isn’t the place my mother took me ten years ago because that place had a chalkboard menu on the wall.
The man who blessed me visits the cash to pay his bill.
Fuck him for bringing me clarity.
My throat still remembers the hamburger.
I sit and write a list of things I never want in my throat again.
Tomorrow (because today had a hamburger in it) I will stop eating to get rid of things.
It is not my job to prove that eating is normal by agreeing to eat things as strange and disgusting as hamburgers.
No meat no dairy no wheat no sugar no eggs
If it didn’t grow from the earth, don’t bother
Because it will sit in my throat.
I have been losing sleep due to nausea.
Without sleep, I barely achieve anything in a day.
There is an answer and the answer is in my throat: refusal.
Refuse that which only makes everything worse.
But, what if I want it?
I don’t know.
But, why do I want it?
I don’t know.
I haven’t slept enough to psychoanalyze my attraction to things that hurt me.
Chances are the connection is pretty adolescent.
But, I have never once considered that it is all sitting in my throat.
My throat is bubbling and it might bubble tomorrow.
There is no throat workout available. I can’t see it, I can’t see whether it’s improved or whether it’s gained inches of fat, it has to bubble to yell at me.
I hear it louder than my thoughts today.
I didn’t want the burger.
I am not hungry. I am tired and worried.
I ate because it was lunch time. Because my mother might have arrived.
I don’t know what Time and Family has to do with food.
It feels wrong, “everything” feels wrong.
And I hiccup.
I lean over.
This won’t happen tomorrow.
I did not consider that fitness must begin with the function of basic pieces of me.
Sleep and swallowing: Essential.