I remember tossing back cherry cough medicine like tequila. Lips pursed and eyes screwed shut
in the hopes the flavor would fade.
I remember the way freshly tightened braces pulled at the threads of sanity. How my mouth
remained slightly open for days so my teeth wouldn’t touch. Each time I passed a mirror I’d
smile just to see my medal-clad mouth.
I remember how a can of beans purpled my toe and left the nail to blacken and fall off.
I remember the thud of a bird hitting the window. Its small body was limp by the time I made it
outside. The yellow feathers of its breast held still as my hands cradled him.
I remember waking from a nightmare. A fishing hook had found its way through my finger and I
screamed myself awake.
I remember pulling grass until my hands were littered with fine cuts, and even then, I kept
plucking at the green strands. The slices would stain the brown of dried dandelion sap.
I remember lighting Bunsen burners with matches. My classmates were afraid, so I lit theirs as
well.
I remember being called a “feminist” for the first time. It was spat as an insult, but it felt like a
compliment.
I remember jamming my heeled boot into a boy’s foot for calling me names. When I told my
teacher what he had said, she told me “Boys will be boys.” But my brothers would have never
said that.
I remember telling my older brother how I would check under my car at night. A look of horror
etched his face.
I remember trying to hold back tears when an older man wouldn’t leave me alone on the city bus.
I remember my dog growling at a man on the trail. My lab had a feeling about him, one I wasn’t
going to question.
I remember not being allowed to go to the mall with my friends. I thought my mother was
paranoid, but I thank her now.
I remember discovering I couldn’t wear thin-strap tank tops to school. Turns out that even before
I hit puberty someone was sexualizing my body. The girls were taught to cover up, to not distract
the boys. Nobody ever told the boys to not look, that my choice in clothing had nothing to do
with them. If they were distracted it was my fault, not their wandering gaze.