One day I will ignore the pressure to be small


In the middle school bathroom, changing into our basketball jerseys and shorts, facing the mirror, she looks at me and says “you have abs”. Sucking in, air and hope and hunger, looking at myself, I see hiccups and toilet bowls. I might mention my low-carb mostly lentils diet my 45 morning treadmill minutes and endless rocking nights on my dad’s ab-rocker or that I owe it all to Mary Kate Olsen because she’s not only thin, she’s seemingly dead.

She puts her deodorant on and leaves.

I put my shirt on and we lose the game.


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