Roe versus Wade gave women the right to choose, but I wasn't sure what. The Watergate committee hearings droned on every night on television, so I couldn't watch my shows. And the first POWs were released from Vietnam, which meant some of the girls in my class could take off the MIA bracelets they wore.
But for me, 1973 was the year I learned that, while everyone else had four food groups, I only had two. The foods I should eat and the foods I shouldn't.
It was the year I first heard the word "calories".
It was the year my mother warned of "the chubby store", a place I would have to shop if I didn't lose weight.
It was the year it was explained to me that my sister could have dessert because she had a "metabolism" and I didn't.
It was the year I figured out things went much better if I sucked in my stomach when my mother was near.
It was the year I started pinching myself, trying to twist flesh off like pieces of modeling clay.
It was the year my mother began watching me eat, asking, "Are you really hungry?" and then pursing her lips if I said, "Yes".
It was the year food became more important to me than it ever had. I wanted it. I hated it.
It was the year my body became my shame, a year that lasted well over three decades.
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