You can remember how the dream still loomed
that time you binge watched “Say Yes to the Dress”
with your ex-boyfriend
while he grinded his teeth and asked to borrow money.
And it was still there on your 31st birthday when nothing
at all exceptional happened.
No one sending flowers to your cubicle for the
office ladies to coo over.
No one else as excited about this day as you.
You know it lingered at Christmas last year when,
alone and drunk on spiked cider,
you locked yourself in the bathroom clutching an
arrangement of makeup brushes
and pink daisy razors,
a toilet paper train tucked into your pantyhose
while you wept thru three tubes of the good mascara.
But then,
you woke up one day as though the first day of some 5th season
starfished in the middle of your queen-size bed
and rolled around in the consideration that you owe
to absolutely no one
on whether or not to get up and do the dishes or spend half
the day in bed browsing the Ikea catalog for a duvet cover
for which only your opinion matters before getting up and knowing that there are takeout leftovers
from the night before
that no one else has eaten
or taking a shower knowing all of the hot water
is yours for the taking and it all feels like some kind of great love story;
You + last night’s Lo Mein
You + an obscenely floral duvet
You + all of this lavish space
You + all of this delicious silence
You + this in-ground pool
of non-obligation to anyone at all.
THANKS & ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Unmeasurable Love and Thanks to my Pink Door Coven for nurturing my magic even when I think it is gone, especially Rachel McKibbens and the whole family, for always holding a space that I can run away to.
Special thanks to my friends and chosen family, that I could not do any of this without: Hope Hill, William Evans, Dave Nichols, Siaara Freeman, Alex & Karen Scott, Ben Figueroa, and Denise Jolly.
I am endlessly grateful to my bestest, Desiree Pipenger, for knowing everything about me and loving me still and harder than anyone and also for letting me be Aunt Rach to her children.
To my loves Shelly Haynes & Abi Bechtel; thank you for your patience with my stunted and frightened feelings. Thank you for being a soft place for me to land at the end of the process that was writing this book.
Acknowledgements:
“Paradise,” “But They Say I Will Not Make It,” “Mixed Girl,” “Spoilage,” “Sleeping Giants,” “My Whiteness Hits On Me in a Bar,” and “Femme Visibility” were all previously published in the 2017 QTPOC edition of Crab Fat Magazine.
Versions of “Glory in Two Parts,” “For Fat Girls Who Considered Starvation When Bulimia Wasn’t Enough,” and “To the Girl in Blackface on Halloween 2011” were published in Drunk In A Midnight Choir in 2015.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rachel Wiley is a performer, poet, feminist, and fat positive activist from Columbus, Ohio. Rachel has represented Columbus at multiple National Poetry Slam competitions. She has toured nationally performing at slam venues, colleges, and festivals. Her work has appeared on Upworthy, The Huffington Post, The Militant Baker, Everyday Feminism and PBS News Hour. Her first poetry collection, Fat Girl Finishing School, was published in 2014 by Timber Mouse Publishing.
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