Oatmeal Cookie

By Amelia Harrington

Discussed: eating disorders

This piece is a very personal reflection of a time in my life where I felt a need to be more grounded and reevaluate my relationship with eating.

When I was wheeled in to the day room, the first thing that caught my eye
Was that big plastic bin 
Packed with bruised bananas and wrapper sweets that shone in the plastic light 
Like little diamonds in the rough of the trash and the ripped paper plates and the spilled Pringles 
And a package of Oreos with the top torn and shredded like it’s been violated 
Comparing wounds with the sugary green Sprite bottles squeezed so they look like corseted fashion models at the waist 
The occasional bulimic Coca Cola joins their mix, 
fizzing and foaming at the mouth 
Just like those girls they will pop, 
eventually  

Before we are ordered to our beds, I make my move 
And snatch several snacks to devour when the lights are all out 
Sugar and salt and something like strawberry jam touches my tongue 
Until only one goody is spared 

I know that when I finally take that bite, I will taste the brittleness and the confectioner’s sugar
And when the wrapper is empty, there is only me 
And the dark room, and the luminous ghost of the hallway light 
And the footsteps, 
And the truth of my gluttony 

And so I take that final treat 
I hide it beside my bed 
Draw up the sheets, knowing I’m happy it’s there 
Because in this little realm of temptation, I can control me 
Even as the world spins and sinks below my feet 

Day after day it will wait for me 
Like Persephone’s fateful pomegranate 
I will not take the bite, I swear, and as long as I do not I am free 

My little oatmeal cookie 

Process

I wrote this poem very suddenly and made only minimal changes since then. This was reflective of just how long I had been dwelling on the topics and experiences it discusses, though I did not quite yet feel comfortable in sharing it via my writing. Or rather, I was not exactly sure what to say, and I dreaded reliving those memories in the process of writing the poem.

This is the second poem I ever wrote speaking about a personal experience, rather than something fantastical or mythical. I found it very cathartic, particularly in how the poem highlighted my distorted reliance on something so small and insignificant to feel stable.

The artwork paired with the poem, although it does not depict the “oatmeal cookie” or other imagery discussed in the poem, reflects more of an internal state of mind and self perception relating to that time.