The Miracle Diet

I’m going on a diet, she said.

I am giving up pleasing.
I am cutting out apologizing when I didn’t do anything wrong.
I am eliminating not enoughness.

I am ruling out waiting for permission.
I’m prohibiting if her then not me.
I am depriving myself of saying I’m okay when I’m not okay.

I am throwing perfectionism in the trash
(and I am taking the trash out right away
so I can’t go searching for it).

I am cleaning the unworthiness from my cupboards.
I am banning saying yes when I really mean no.
I’m starving myself of unloving mirrors
and the stories I tell myself in them.

I’m giving back the impossible standards
that were never mine to begin with.
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I am eating worth for breakfast.
I am playing big for lunch.
I am stocking the fridge with unlimited power,
And I am obsessively counting my joy.

I am stuffing myself with desire.
I am getting drunk on my own determination.
I am addicted to my intuition.
And I always carry extra supplies of self-love in my purse.

I will raise my daughter on this diet.
And she will raise her daughter on it.
And she will raise hers.
And hers.
And hers.
And hers.

We will eradicate all the other diets.

And we will make good history.