In the Harsh Climate of Wyoming, I Learned to Listen to My Body
My eating disorder dictated my relationship to food. Then I moved to Wyoming, whose unforgiving landscape reminded me: We eat food to survive.
Stay behind in Austin where you belongI’m trying to start over. Stay in the heat, with the tech startups and the awful, congested traffic. Stay behind and let me live.
Brokeback MountainBrokeback Mountain
Once you think you’re getting used to the cold, there’s the altitude. At 7,200 feet, Laramie is considered relatively high altitude. High altitude lowers your appetite and makes you sleepy and dehydrated. You can never breathe quite enough, because you’re always two breaths behind.
I’ll go on a hike I’ll go on a five-hour hike and I won’t eat at all to make up for this.
Go to bed and don’t even think about dinner.
You can existBut only barely. And on my terms, not yours
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When my Nai Nai asked me about the book, I felt compelled to tell her the truth: that I was scared, but that I was trying.
When I came to Laramie, I found the person I wanted to be. When I left, I took her with me.
There are cowboys out there who echo the conquering-the-west narrative, one of entitlement and legacy and what he is owed.
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As a woman of color moving to Laramie, Wyoming, I was afraid that I wouldn’t fit in, that I would be unsafe. But at karaoke night at The Ruffed Up Duck, I found my place among the the defiant.
I was single for the first time in eighteen years. I felt unmoored. For the first time in eighteen years, everything was new, including me.
When I developed nerve problems in my hands, so much of what we do in the kitchen was suddenly inaccessible to me.