I met my younger self for coffee.

She was fifteen minutes early and I was five minutes late.

I met my younger self for coffee.

She was fifteen minutes early and I was five minutes late.

She ordered a single shot latte with no foam. She checked the weight of the drink before accepting it. Besides an apple, this was her first “meal” of the day. It was 11a.

I ordered the same and also instinctively felt my cup to see how “full” it was, but I had eaten plenty that day and knew it no longer served my nervous system to fight strangers for drops of milk.

She was wearing brightly patterned leggings and a muscle tank baring her sides and the lacy bra beneath. Her outfit was sexual but her energy was not. I was in baggy jeans and a baggy shirt. We both wore gold hoops in our ears.

She spoke fast and chewed the cuticles around her perfect nails. She was incredibly thin, though she covered her stomach with her hands and kept adjusting her waistband. She had just finished a class SoulCycle and made sure to tell me that she’d also done yoga a few hours before that.

I told her I didn’t really practice yoga poses anymore. That I much preferred to meditate and do breathwork, although I had just finished a HIIT class, which was now my favorite way to move.

She was appalled that I would do strength-training because of how, it “can ruin your flexibility.” Snorting, “I’d never be able to get my leg behind my head if I did that.” I felt how important that was to her. She looked me up and down and then rolled the skin of her stomach in between her fingers, like a worry stone.

She rattled off her upcoming travel schedule at break neck speed. It sounded glamorous, even now, but I could see the dark circles around her eyes from all the throwing up she’d been doing. I could hear the loneliness.

I tell her I can’t travel as freely now with my kids and she nearly falls off her chair. One kid was shocking, but multiple???

We both laugh.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

I explain to her that even though my physical world was much smaller and my body was much bigger, I had opened up my whole universe in ways she couldn’t yet imagine.

I could tell this information was making her anxious and she checked her phone, already feeling late for the packed schedule she had to run off to.

I exhaled, and put my hand on hers, “You will stop running one day. And though you will feel trapped at times, your relief at being safe and loved will outweigh any desire you have to leave.”

Her eyes meet mine and I could see the tears welling up, right alongside her fear that they would smudge her perfect mascara.

She beamed a smile at me that could be felt across the room. Some men turned and stared and I could see her puff up a bit. She was beautiful and seen, her two favorite feelings in the world. But we both knew the cost of those two things was slowly killing her.

“I gotta run! L.A. traffic you know!,” she hugged me tightly, sensing the differences in our bodies. She seemed comforted by my softness, instead of disgusted by it, as she had feared.

We pulled apart and she held my gaze another moment. I could almost see the hard shell of protection beginning to crack around her. But I know it will take years before she can appreciate the softness that is her true nature.

I shout behind her that I’m available for coffee anytime she needs me, but she’s already run out the door.