Coming of age,

What a cute term,

Meant to describe,

The idea of children being exposed to this cruel world.

I suppose it’s meant to pertain to older teenagers,

So I guess I was early to the trend.

Coming of age meant counting calories,

Protein shakes,

And too little portions I thought were just fine.

Coming of Age meant skipping breakfast,

Since I just don’t have the time,

And then not being hungry at lunch.

But then getting home and binge eating what I called “bad” and “guilty” food.

Coming of age meant that when that happened,

I would get mad at myself,

And say some not so since things I’d rather not repeat.

I’d punish myself by skipping diner,

I had sports anyways.

I was too busy,

If you couldn’t tell I used “busy” as an excuse a lot.

Coming of age meant counting my calories there too,

Seeing how much I burn.

Coming of age means that the twelve year old suddenly despises the foods she once loved,

Her relationship with them ruined.

It means that the thirteen year old will continue that and get tired because of it.

Tired physically, and a little bit tired of life,

Never dire,

Just enough that she knew something was wrong with her.

And it means that now the fourteen year old is left to clean up the mess,

Trying to salvage the broken pieces.