What I eat on bad days

Today the United States bleeds. At a Senate hearing, Dr. Christine Blasey Ford let the entire country excavate the most traumatic event of her life. When she was 15, she told a panel of older men, a boy named Brett Kavanaugh sexually assaulted her, laughing and smothering her screams. The day had me and so many others feeling a raw and open wound that can never quite scab over.

I couldn’t eat much yesterday. I couldn’t move much. When I left the conference room after her testimony, I cried at my desk. I needed to eat, and I did. Bad coffee, a noodle bowl by Annie Chun’s. A mint chocolate Clif bar. When I felt empty again, a Raw Rev vegan bar, shiny with oil.

At home, I ate squash and red onions and corn on the cob and tempeh crumbles. I ate it with guacamole. My stomach swooped, like I had thought there was another step at the end of the staircase.

I drank a margarita: lime juice, tequila, triple sec, and agave. I drank it alone. I drank it with half the world.


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