Perfectly Thin, page 11
“I told him, if he wants to have an heir one day, he better stay away from you.” She smiles cockily, which lifts my spirits.
“Did you really?” Presley asks.
“Hell yeah. And if he dares to ask you out again, you won’t be able to stop my knee connecting with his balls. I’ll put him down, I don’t care if I get suspended or not. I will put him down.”
“Get in line, sister,” I say. “Because there’ll be nothing left of him if he does.” But now, this gives me the motivational boost I need to lose even more weight, make him want me, then humiliate him when he dares come crawling back.
“Where’s your lunch, Jane?” Emma asks when she sees I’m still nibbling on what’s left of the cucumber.
“I’m not really hungry.” I snack on the tiny amount left.
Emma looks to Presley, and scrunches her mouth, before gazing down at her own lunch. “I’m going to ask you something, Jane.”
“What?”
Emma’s eyes dart across to Presley, who shakes her head. “Don’t,” Presley says.
“What the hell? Are you two gossiping about me?”
“No, it’s not that. We’re just worried, that’s all,” Emma responds.
My anger levels are creeping up. “What?” I say in a sharp, short tone. “What are you worried about?”
“We haven’t really seen you eating, and we’re a little worried you may be starving yourself.”
“Starving myself? Seriously? You think I’m starving myself?”
“All you’ve been eating is cucumbers and apples. We’re worried for you, that’s all,” Presley says, as she reaches to touch my upper arm.
I move my arm away, annoyed. Standing, I gather my bag, and sling it over my shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. And no, I’m not starving myself. I’m trying to lose weight the right way so I can keep up with you two bitches.” I don’t ever use that word about anyone. But, they’ve angered me.
“Hey!” Emma snaps. “Don’t you dare talk to us like that. We’ve got your back all the time, and for you to be so awful to us because we’re worried is a shitty thing to do, Jane.”
Narrowing my eyes, I shake my head. “Whatever.” I walk away, furious with them.
I can’t believe they’d ask me if I’m starving myself. How can they ask me something like that? I eat. I might not be eating as much as I used to, but I’m eating.
I head to the bathroom, and lock myself in the stall.
Sitting on the toilet seat, I stifle my anger toward my two so-called best-friends. What makes them think I’m starving? Why would they even suggest it? I’m blown away by how wrong they are. I eat. I eat well. This is bullshit.
The door opens, and two girls walk in talking. I don’t recognize their voices, they’re probably juniors.
“Did you see what she’s wearing?”
“Oh my God! I know. Why would you wear that to school?”
“And her make-up. Who put it on her face, a clown?”
They both laugh. “I know, right. Oh my God, if I had ankles that fat, you’d tell me, right? I can’t believe no one’s told her how bad she looks. Like, doesn’t she have a mother who’d say, girl, you should not be wearing that?” They go into separate cubicles but keep talking to each other.
“You’d think her mom would be honest. I’d never be caught dead in something like that.” They both laugh again. “Maybe we should do our civic duty to the school, and walk up to her, and just tell her.”
“No way. She’s a senior, if we said something, she’d likely kill us.”
One starts giggling. “Or sit on us. She’d flatten us in like a minute.”
Are they talking about me? But I’m not wearing make-up, so they can’t be talking about me.
“I’d hate to be as fat as her.”
“Maybe she’s got some kind of disorder. You know?”
“Yeah, it’s called have to shove all food in my face, disorder.” They both laugh again. How can they be so nasty about me? They don’t even know who I am. “Oh, did you hear Carson’s having a party this weekend? I can’t wait for it.”
“I can’t go. Mom won’t let me, so it’s no use in even trying to beg.”
“Just tell her you’re staying at my place.”
“You know she’ll call your mom and ask.” They both exit the cubicles, wash their hands, and keep brainstorming how they’re going to be able to go to Carson’s party.
“Yeah, she will.” There’s a pause, before she adds, “Tell her mom’s out, but she can talk to Trin. Trin won’t care. She’ll say you’re staying, then we can go to Carson’s. I’m thinking of wearing that tight red skirt, and just a bra. Think that’ll get his attention?”
“Don’t you think he’s a bit too old for you?” The door opens, and they leave.
Scrubbing my hands through my hair I honestly can’t believe how desperate those two girls sounded. I wanted to tell them to give themselves some love, and don’t be so determined to do things they’ll later regret.
Have a bit of self-respect.
But I do want to know if they were talking about me. I mean, everything but the make-up sounds exactly like me. I bet they were talking about me. They referred to a senior who’s fat, and I’m the only fat senior at the school. Everyone else is like, perfect.
I’ll be perfect too, one day soon.
Standing from the toilet, I open the door, and make sure there’s no one else in here. Locking the door so no one can come in, I start running on the spot. I need to lose weight, so I can fit in with everyone else. So girls like them, can’t talk about me behind my back anymore.
The more I think about what they were saying, the more I’m convinced, they were talking about me.
I mean, they can’t be talking about anyone else.
They can’t.
No one else is fat like me. Not one other person.
“Hey, Maria,” one of Carson’s friends calls as he walks past.
I look around, trying to see who he’s talking to. Who’s Maria? I keep walking, obviously, he must be on the phone.
“Maria,” he says again as he turns, walking backwards, looking at me.
“What?” I look around again.
“Maria.” He points, and laughs.
“It’s Jane,” I correct.
“Nah, you’re Maria. That’s what all ethnic girls are called, right? Maria?”
What the actual fuck? Never have I had anyone say anything about me being Greek, and now I’m an ethnic named Maria? “So because I’m Greek that makes my name Maria?”
“Yeah, Greek and greasy. Greeks are greasy, right?” He laughs again at his own joke.
“If I’m Maria who’s greasy because I’m Greek, then that makes you a member of the KKK.” Snap! Take that, you asshole.
“What? Nah, I didn’t, what, nah!”
“You call me Maria, I’ll call you KKK.” I brush past him, knocking him with my shoulder as I walk away. What an ass. What is it with everyone today? Is it ‘let’s be horrible to Jane’ day? First the scales, then Emma and Presley, then the girls in the bathroom, and now this asswipe.
What is going on? Why is everyone out to get me?
I just want to get home, have a shower, and go to sleep. I’m over today.
Over. It.
The door to my room flings open, and it startles me awake. “You’re going to be late for school, Jane,” Mom calls.
“Huh?” I look around the room. “What day is it?” I ask while blinking my eyes, as my mind is trying to catch up with what’s happening.
“You came home from school, and went straight to sleep yesterday. You didn’t even wake for dinner. We thought you were sick, but you weren’t running a fever, so we left you to sleep.”
Have I seriously been asleep since four o’clock yesterday? The last thing I remember was coming home exhausted by everyone’s bitchiness, and collapsing onto my bed, unable to keep going. “What? I slept through from yesterday?”
“Yes, and now you’re going to be late. Get up, or you’re not going to get to school on time. Want some eggs for breakfast? Cereal?”
I rub my eyes, trying to focus, but even though I’ve had over fifteen hours of sleep, I feel like I haven’t slept at all. “Um, nah. I’ll grab something at school,” I say.
“No, you’ll have something here. But you better hurry up, because you don’t have time to fart-ass around.”
I turn to look at Mom. Did she just say, fart-ass? “Fart-ass?” I question. “What?”
“Just hurry up.” She starts closing the door, but opens it again. “What do you want me to make for you?”
“Nothing, honestly, I’ll get something from school.”
Mom’s lips purse together. “Nope, you didn’t eat dinner last night. So you have to have something. Want a protein shake? You can have that on the go.”
No, I don’t want anything at all. “Sure, thank you,” I say pacifying Mom enough for her to close the door, and for me to lay down again.
Why am I so tired? I have no energy at all. But I also know I can’t lie around in bed all day either.
Ugh.
Throwing the covers back, I gather all my energy to move my lower half so my feet are on the ground. I can barely lift my head off the pillow. I’m so tired. I really don’t want to get up, but I know I have to. Thankfully the weekend is nearly here and I can spend both days in bed, catching up on sleep.
Heading into the bathroom, I take a quick shower knowing I need to get my butt into gear and get to school.
I get dressed and make my way into the kitchen, where Mom’s sipping on her coffee. She sees me come in, and turns the blender on making me a protein shake. I’ll have a sip, then tip it out up the street. Protein shakes have a ton of calories, and the last thing I need is extra weight.
“What’s wrong, Jane?” she asks. I sit at one of the high-stools at the kitchen counter, and place my head on the cool countertop.
“I don’t know, Mom. I’m feeling like a sloth today.” I sigh. “Maybe I’m getting sick. I don’t know?”
I hear Mom shuffling over to me after she turns the blender off. She moves my hair and places her hand to my forehead. “I was worried last night. Maybe we can get you to the doctor, run some blood work. See if there’s something underlying.”
Um, going to the doctor probably wouldn’t be the best. They’ll start asking questions and I’m not really in the mood to talk to them. I lift my head, and smile. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late. I’m sure with everything that’s been happening, it’s probably just taken its toll on me.”
“Probably. We’ll give it another couple of days, and if you’re still tired, we’ll go to the doctor. It could be low iron. Actually, when are you due for your period?”
“Um, hang on.” I take my phone out of my back pocket and bring up the calendar. I have a look at when I last had my period. “Oh yeah, that’s probably what it is. Low iron. I’m due for my period in a few days.”
“Hmmm, I think we may go to the doctor anyway.”
“Why?” I question, suddenly suspicious. “I’m fine.”
“Well, first of all, you haven’t been eating very much, and last night you were so tired you missed dinner, and even after all those hours of sleep, you’re still tired. Secondly, you’re walking quite a lot. And I think we just need to make sure you’re okay.”
I roll my eyes as I huff in frustration. “Come on, Mom. Look at me. Do I look like I’m starving myself?”
“I’m not saying you’re starving...”
“Yeah, you are. You just said I’m not eating a lot and I’m over exercising. I’m not doing either. I’m just not hungry. And, I’m not over exercising. I like to walk. There’s nothing wrong with exercising.”
“I didn’t say there was, I’m just saying...”
This is quickly escalating into something I’m not in the mood for. “Whatever. I’ve gotta get to school.” I grab my backpack, and start walking out of the house.
“Your protein shake!” Mom calls as I slam the door to leave.
Screw her protein shake. She’s made me mad by suggesting there’s something wrong with me. There’s nothing wrong with trying to get healthy, why would she be like this?
“Jane!” I hear her holler as I hurriedly scurry down the street. I don’t want to deal with her and her hypochondriac opinions about me.
I pick up my pace with a mixture of anger toward my Mom, and needing to lose this God damned weight which is refusing to budge.
That stupid one pound sits front and center in my mind.
Something like you.
Why do I allow his words to continue to constrict my heart? I’m stronger than that. I’m a tough person. I’ve been teased my entire life about my weight, and never really paid any attention to it. But Carson’s words haunt me, and eat away at everything inside of me.
“Why do you have to love food so much?” I mockingly ask myself as I walk fast to school.
My stomach rumbles then twists, causing me to flinch in pain. It also screams how it’s hungry and needs to eat. Wait, when did I last have an apple? Did I have one yesterday? Yeah, I must’ve. I can’t really remember though.
Walking into school, I’m too preoccupied with when I last ate an apple to hear or see anyone around me.
“Hey,” I hear someone say.
“Sorry,” I mumble, not really knowing why or even to who I’m apologizing.
“Jane!”
Startled, I look around to see who’s called my name. I see Emma walking toward me. “Hey,” I say, and look down to my feet. I know we had a fight yesterday, but I’m struggling to remember exactly what it was about.
“What’s going on with you? First you walked out on Presley and me yesterday, and then you didn’t answer your phone at all. We were both worried about you.” She stands in front of me, blocking me from moving forward.
“Sorry,” I murmur again, trying to remember what we fought about. Oh yeah, that’s right, they were criticizing what I’ve been eating. “I fell asleep at like four yesterday afternoon, and didn’t wake up til this morning.”
Emma tilts her head to the side, and crinkles her forehead. “Are you okay? Are you sick? You should go home to rest,” her voice automatically softens.
“I’m getting my period,” I say as if that’s all the excuse I need.
“Oh, right. Why didn’t you tell us? Presley and I thought the worst. You kind of flew off the handle yesterday, Jane. We’re worried, hey?”
“Why? There’s nothing to be worried about.”
Emma looks around, making sure no one is within earshot of us. She tucks a chunk of fly-away hairs behind her ear. “Look, is something going on? You’ve been quite...” She averts her gaze for a few seconds before looking at me again. “I don’t know. You’ve been acting...different.”
Here we go again. First Mom, now Emma. “How?” I snap, aggravated by the crap. “How am I acting different?”
“To start with, you’re acting all defensive and stuff.”
“I don’t have time for this shit, Emma. I’m not acting defensive. Or even acting differently. I’m just me. Okay?” I feel myself rapidly losing my shit.
“Yeah, right. Like this isn’t defensive?” She waves her hand in front of me. “You’re not acting like yourself.”
“You come at me first thing in the morning, and you call me defensive? Get a life, Emma. Just...” I hold my hand up in her face. “Just get out of my way.” I go to walk past her, not in the mood for her bullshit.
“Jane, you need to know we’re here for you regardless of the fact you’re trying your hardest to push us away.”
“I’m not...” I close my eyes, and bring my hand up to rub over my forehead. I take several deep breaths, before opening my eyes again. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m tired, and I’m hormonal. Sorry.” I really don’t want to fight with Emma, or Presley. Or my parents. But they need to get off my case. It’s frustrating.
“You know Presley and I love you, right?” I nod. “And we’ve always got your back. Always.”
“I know,” I say as I lower my chin. “I’m sorry.” I don’t want them on my case, but I feel bad. Maybe for now it’s best if I avoid Emma and Presley. I really don’t have the energy to fight with them.
Emma steps forward, and gives me a hug. “Just...talk to us, yeah?”
“Yeah, okay. I’m sorry,” I say again.
She steps back and we find ourselves in the hallway with no one else around. “Shit,” Emma says.
“Yep,” I echo when we realize the bell’s gone and we’re late. We both run toward our classes.
She gives me a quick smile before she enters her classroom, and I go into mine.
I go straight to my desk, and find myself even more tired from running. Maybe I need some kind of iron tablets. Mrs. Halt is talking in the front of the class, but I can’t seem to concentrate on what she’s saying. My head fills with white noise, as I feel my eyelids getting heavier and heavier. I wish I could put my head down on the desk, and fall asleep.
Mrs. Halt keeps talking, but all I can hear is my own thoughts. Why am I so tired?
I shoot my hand over my head.
“Jane?” Mrs. Halt points to me.
“I’m not feeling well; can I go to the bathroom please?”
Mrs. Halt’s left eyebrow rises in question, and her lips thin out. “Go.” She looks down at the hall pass on her desk.
Standing, I take my bag with me, grab the hall pass, and head straight to the bathroom.
Man, I’m exhausted. What is wrong with me? Lowering the lid of the toilet, I sit and lean my head against the cubicle wall. Pull yourself together, Jane.
Closing my eyes, I take several deep breaths, needing to rally all my energy to keep going through the day.
I let out another sigh, then open my eyes. I better get back to class. This day is sucking big time. I despise my life.
Sitting at our usual table, I take my phone out and start researching how to drop pounds quickly. I know I have to be doing something wrong, or the weight would be falling off. The only thing I can think of is I’m eating too much. I’ve taken myself down to one apple – seventy calories, one cucumber – thirty-five calories and two lettuce leaves – five calories. I either have to eat less, or I have to exercise more.
