Learning My Thighs Were Larger Than Life

By Amanda Brown

Three scrawny fifth graders squished
into the back seat of Jessica’s mom’s
sedan. While her mom was inside buying
ice cream for our slumber party, we sang
You are my fire at the top of our lungs. 

I danced in my seat, alive in my jean shorts 
and Limited Too tank top—until 
Jessica said my thighs were 
spreading across the seat like an ice cream 
cone someone dropped in the parking lot, 
the scoop melting in the sun. She explained how
she sits: heels raised to pull her legs 
away from the seat and keep her thighs
frozen in perfect scoops, two worlds apart.

My cheeks turned the color 
of strawberry ice cream and I raised
my heels just like hers, but cringed 
when I saw the hem of my shorts dig 
into my thighs. They were larger than life.

Amanda works full time as a digital content writer for the pet food industry. She's also a volunteer reader for Persephone's Daughters, a literary magazine by and for survivors of abuse. She lives in St. Louis, Missouri, with her husband, son, and two dogs.