ARFID

Chemicals in a can.

There's no tagline about containing

Real Cheese

Because there's no semblance

Of anything real,

And to say so would be a lie,

Not a stretch of the truth.

(And the Corporations

Can only stretch the truth

Or they'll be in trouble.)

The can is midnight blue--

Mom's favorite color.

The writing pops off,

The warms of the reds and yellows and whites

Contrasted against a cool backdrop.

~

We called it "sprinkle cheese"

Because who has time to say

"Kraft Macaroni and Cheese Cheese Powder™?"

It goes on matzah,

Popcorn,

Baked potato,

Even asparagus.

But mostly it goes on bread.

White bread and sprinkle cheese.

No nutritional value.

Processed "foods" that probably

Give you Cancer.

But a delicious snack.

The best snack.

My favorite snack.

~

It went off the shelves.

It was almost a Tragedy.

But for ten years,

Grandma provided.

Cans of sprinkle cheese for birthdays,

For Hannukah,

And for the times in between.

She said she called the company

And asked for the cans

And they gave them to her.

Just like that.

~

As a kid I never asked.

I just knew that she Loved Me

And so I had my sprinkle cheese.

But now I wonder:

How does a little old lady

In Englewood, Colorado

Ring up a multi-billion dollar,

International Corporation

And get them to mail her

Cans of sprinkle cheese,

Not by the store-load,

Not by the case,

But by just three or four

(a sprinkling, perhaps?)

At a time?

~

She must have told them that there was

A Child

Who ate only two foods

For the first few years of her life,

A Child

Who was in food therapy by age 4

Because she took 45 minutes

To eat a half sandwich

Made of bread and butter and cheese

Because that was three foods

And three foods meant three textures

And that was just

Too Many Textures

And also there were so many toys

In that sterile room

And why eat

[avoidant]

When you can play?

~

She must have told them that there was

A Child

Who loved noodles

More than anything,

But if there was a single drop of sauce

Anywhere near the plate,

The noodles were Ruined

And could not be eaten,

Just as fruits and vegetables

Or any two foods on a plate that

Touched each other

Could not be eaten

[restrictive]

Because they were

The Wrong Texture

And the Right Texture

Did not exist.

~

She must have told them that there was

A Child

Who would not eat at mealtimes

(Aren't mealtimes just

A societal construct?)

If she wasn't hungry

Because you should rely on your body,

Not a clock,

To tell you when food is needed,

A Child

Who did not know what hungry was

Because hunger felt the same as nausea

And eating when nauseous

[food intake]

Makes you vomit

So food consumption better be avoided,

Just to be safe.

~

She must have told them that there was

A Child

Who for over four years

Returned the foods in her packed lunch,

Lovingly prepared by her Mother,

To the cabinet.

A Child

Whose dinner napkin,

Politely, primly, and properly folded in her lap,

Held bites of meat and vegetables,

Waiting to be surreptitiously thrown

Into the garbage

[disorder]

Instead of into a stomach,

Because throwing out food was bad,

But eating was worse.

A Child

Who decided that 74 pounds was

A perfectly acceptable weight to be,

Even if others thought it was

Too Low,

Because at 74 pounds she was

Skinny

And the world said that

Skinny meant pretty.

(And when Micah S.

From Creative Writing Class

Grabbed my wrist

To comment on how tiny it was,

I acted annoyed,

But my heart jumped

And my skin tingled

Because he noticed me

And small was beautiful.)

~

I think

Maybe

The cans were a gift

Not just to me

But to my parents as well,

The people struggling with

The challenges of raising

A Child with

Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder.

(A self-diagnosis, admittedly,

Courtesy of the DSM-V,

But isn't it beautiful

When all of the sudden

Five little letters

Sum up a Lifelong Struggle

In its entirety?)

Because all they needed

To get this sick Child

With absolutely no sense of Self-Preservation

To eat something,

Anything,

Was a piece of plain white bread

And a sprinkling of chemicals

From a midnight blue can.