Missi Rasmussen: Dixie Cups

Fall '13 TOC

 

She drinks her milk in Dixie cups. She has an eating disorder. She only eats twelve things. It's a consistency thing.

Breaded chicken (from fast food places nowhere else), Jell-o (red not green or orange), applesauce (strawberry or cinnamon not plain), yogurt (from a plastic tube not a cup), provolone cheese (must be white must be in a circle) or American cheese (must be square must be orange), apple slices (only red not yellow or green only in slices must have skin cut off), macaroni and cheese (must have orange powder cheese not creamy cheese must be straight macaroni noodles not curved not white cheese but won't eat macaroni and cheese at all anymore since restaurant incident), mashed potatoes (smooth not lumpy no skins no pepper spots at all), watermelon chunks (must be cut in cubes no seeds not even the clearish white ones), peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (white bread crust cut off smooth peanut butter grape jelly cut into squares), French fries (must be long and thin not crinkly or tator tots or waffle fries or thick cut not seasoned with anything except salt), and milk (must be in a Dixie cup).

She whines for the milk at night. In a Dixie cup. She holds it in her dirty hands and cups the cup with her dirty hands. Wash your hands. Wash your face. Peanut butter smeared in the corners. Brush your teeth. Time for bed. She wads up the Dixie cup and wants another. Throw it in the trash. With the scraps from the apple and the macaroni and cheese you won't eat and the lumpy potatoes I don't know how to cook and the plastic from the cheese and the crust from your sandwich and the coffee grounds and everything else that is keeping me awake and the rest of the choices we're forced to make every day.

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Not Enough Night
Not Enough Night
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