Perfectly Thin, page 19
I turn my head and look out the side window. She won’t understand, so there’s no use in talking to her about it. “There’s nothing happening.”
“Yeah, that’s bullshit.”
Mom’s words surprise me. She’s not the usual type to swear. “Mom,” I say, amazed she cursed.
“Am I lying?” she questions. I don’t reply. “Thought so. Now, what’s happening?”
“There’s nothing happening, okay? Just leave it, Mom.” Shaking my head, I don’t turn to look at Mom. “This is why I wanted to walk,” I mumble under my breath.
“Hey, what’s with this attitude?”
“I just wanted to walk to the damn mall, but no, I’m stuck here with you.”
“Stuck? Are you for real right now? Where is all this hostility coming from?”
My foot taps, and I chew on my thumb nail. I don’t answer Mom, I figure, it’s a rhetorical question. I keep looking out the window, gnawing at all my nails.
“Jane? I’m talking to you.”
“I’m not hostile, Mom. I just wanted to walk, and you insisted on picking me up.”
“Are you trying to cause a fight so I can let you get out of the car for you to walk?”
“What? No. That’s ridiculous.” Although, I’d get at least some walking in, just not enough.
“What did you eat for lunch today?”
“What?” I asked with an unusually high pitch.
“What did you eat for lunch today?”
“I don’t know; I don’t remember. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Jane, you didn’t eat dinner last night, or Saturday night...”
I cut her off before she keeps saying anything. “I wasn’t hungry after what happened with Cleo’s boyfriend. Then with Cleo. I’m not exactly rushing to eat anything, you know?!”
“Hmmm,” Mom huffs. I sneak a look at her, and I can see she’s thinking hard. Her forehead is crinkled, and her lips are pursed together. “Right,” she says.
“Right, what?” I question.
She shakes her head, but her mouth contorts. She’s definitely thinking about something. Now, I want to know what it is. Is it about me? Is it about how fat I am? Should I cut my food back even more? Is she ashamed of me because of my hideous body? Oh my God, is Mom ashamed to be seen with me in public? Am I really that bad?
I’m reveling in my own self-hatred too much to even notice Mom’s pulled into a parking space at the mall. “What do you need?” Mom asks as she turns to grab her handbag from the back seat.
“I’m getting a new set of scales,” I say in a small voice. My mind is reeling while I guess what’s going through Mom’s mind.
“Scales? Why? What’s wrong with the ones we have at home?”
“They’re broken. They don’t work.”
“Maybe they need batteries.”
“No!” I snap. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath. “Sorry.” I rub my temples in a circular motion. “I’ve got a headache, Mom. Sorry.” I don’t, but at least this way, it might get Mom to ease up.
“From now on, you eat dinner out at the table with us. We’re sick and tired of having you disappear into your room and ignoring us. Yiayia and Papou won’t be around forever, and the least you could do is spend time with them. And us.”
Shit, no. I can’t. I hide my dinner, and throw it out on the way to – or at – school. I can’t do this, they’ll know I’m not eating, and they won’t understand why.
“Did you hear what I said?” Mom says as she opens the door, and exits the car.
“Yeah,” I reply, distracted. I’ve got to think of how to get out of this. Something has to happen to me, to justify not eating dinner at the table.
Maybe, I can fall and hurt myself. Or use the headache as an excuse as to why I can’t eat dinner with them tonight. Ugh, but that doesn’t solve the problem for tomorrow.
God, why can’t they leave me alone? Don’t they know I’m trying to improve myself? Make myself happy by losing weight? Because once I’m at my perfect weight of one hundred and twenty pounds, then life will be better. Obviously.
“Yeah, what, Jane? You have to sit with us at dinner from now on.”
I follow Mom into the mall, trying to figure out a way to get out of having dinner with them. “Okay,” I respond from behind her. It’s not okay, nothing’s okay. This isn’t going to work for me.
She stops walking, and turns to search for me. “Good,” she says as she looks at the time on her phone. “I’ve got a few stores to go to, do you want to come with me, or meet back at the car at say...” She looks at her phone again, studying it. She crinkles her brows and chews on the inside of her mouth as she considers what time she’ll be done. “About an hour?”
“Sure,” I reply with a fake small smile and a nod. Oh, actually, this can work in my favor. Maybe I can walk the perimeter of the mall once I’ve bought a set of scales. I perk up, suddenly happier that I’ll be able to exercise.
“If I’m running late, or early, I’ll call you.”
Please be running late. I’m fairly confident I can walk the perimeter of the mall in under ten minutes. Maybe, I can do at least five laps, if not more, before I’m due back at the car. “Awesome.” Yes! I can make this work. “I’ll see you back at the car, Mom.”
“Wait, before you go, do you need money? Want to grab something to eat?”
To eat? Really? That’s the last thing I want or need. “Nah, I’m good. I ate at school, and I’m not really hungry. And I don’t need any money, I have my card.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you back at the car, okay?”
“Sure. Bye, Mom.”
Operation ‘try-to-get-as-many-steps-as-I-possibly-can-in-the-next-hour’ has commenced. I speed walk to the sliding exterior doors when I notice the steps leading up to the second level.
Oh, light bulb moment! If I go up the stairs, I can do a loop around the second floor, then go down the stairs, do a loop around on the ground floor, and continue it like a circuit. Yes. Perfect idea.
I run up the stairs, taking two at a time, and when I reach the second level of the mall, I speed walk the top floor, before heading down the stairs to do the same on the bottom floor. Crap, I should time myself, and make it faster and faster. Why didn’t I do that on the first loop? Ugh. Stupid, Jane.
Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I set the timer, and go.
Slow shoppers get in my way, but I artfully dodge them only slightly slowing, just enough not to knock into them. I’m focused on getting the best possible time down, so I can kick my own time in the third loop.
I skillfully get to the start, proud I’ve been able to complete two full loops. I pull my phone out of my pocket and look at the timer. Nine minutes exactly? Are you kidding? That’s a horrendously slow time. I can do better.
I set my timer again, and go. Ugh. Are there more people now then there were on the first two loops? Why do so many people have to be out at the mall? Every opportunity I see where there aren’t groups of people, I break out into a short jog, trying to improve on my time. But who am I kidding? I probably look like a baby elephant trying to waddle away from the herd. I can only imagine how my butt is wobbling as I try to run.
With puffing breath, I get to the starting point, and grab my phone, stopping the timer. Yes, eight minutes thirty-two. I can shave off those thirty-two seconds. I can do this. I. Can. Do. This.
Psyching myself up mentally, I take off, making sure I’ve reset the timer.
Up the stairs, down to the back of the mall, up the other side, rounding and going down the stairs. I speed past shoppers who are walking slowly, shoppers who are alone, shoppers who are in groups. I’m absolutely determined not to lose focus and to get back to the start at eight minutes or less.
I can’t believe how fast I’m moving, and I also can’t believe no one is calling me names as I move past them with the grace of a baby rhino trying to find its feet. Not one person says anything. Or maybe they do, and I just don’t hear them.
I catch my reflection in one of the store windows as I power walk past it, and I stop for a moment to look at myself. My eyes travel the length of my body, and I find I’m tearing up. Am I really as bad as the reflection mirrors? My hips are enormous, and protrude making them a complete focal point. Oh shit. My throat tightens as my breath struggles to exhale. Keep moving, fatso.
My eyes lower, and for another few seconds, I have to compose myself before I move. Why am I doing all of this? Maybe it’s best to give up now. I can’t seem to make this weight fall off, no matter how hard I try.
I’m so unbelievably fat, I just can’t wrap my mind around it.
“Hey, what are you doing? I thought we were going to meet back at the car?”
Mom’s voice intrudes on my darkness, making me turn to look at her. “Yeah, I was just... you know.” I point to the window display.
“Do you like the outfit? Do you want to try it on?”
I do double-take at the mannequin in the window, and see she’s wearing skinny jeans and a white crop top, paired with a black puffer jacket and a bucket hat. Definitely not for me. I mean, you have to be skinny to wear something like that, and have confidence. I’ve got two rolls where my stomach is supposed to be, the bottom one bigger than the top. So, no chance in hell I can wear that, not to mention they’re skinny jeans. “Oh no, I don’t think it’ll suit me.”
“Try it on, if you want it, I’ll buy it for you.”
Backing away, I shake my head. Reaching for the bags Mom’s carrying, I start heading toward the car. “Have you finished? Can we go home?”
Mom looks at my hands to see I’m only carrying the bags I’ve taken from her. “Where are the scales?”
“Don’t worry about them. I’m sure you’re right, they probably just need batteries. Can we go home please? My head’s hurting more.” I rub at my temples to add to the lie. It might also get me out of having to eat dinner with the family, if I play my cards right.
“Okay.” Mom glances at me and nods slightly.
Shit, does Mom know? My heart races as the newfound rawness of Mom’s suspicious behavior batters my nerve endings. Is she watching me? Is she dissecting my every move? Does she know I’ve been throwing away my food? “What?” I finally snap.
“What?” Mom replies.
“Why are you staring at me?”
Mom flinches, as she blinks rapidly at me. “What?” she says again.
“You’re staring at me. Why?”
“Jane, you’re over-reacting to something, but I have no idea what. I have no idea what the hell is going on with you.”
I want to bolt, run as fast as I can away from here. The walls are closing in on me, and my body trembles as my shoulders slump forward, I lower my head and make a bee-line for the car.
I bet everyone is looking at me, judging me because I’m overweight.
Why does life have to be so damn hard?
“Dinner!” Mom calls.
There’s a dreadful churning in my stomach, I don’t know what to do. I’m not allowed to eat in my room anymore, and I hate how I have to sit with everyone. They’re all going to watch me, staring while I force food into my mouth.
Why can’t they leave me alone? It’s not like I’m worth the trouble.
“Dinner!” Mom calls again.
A shudder rips over my body, and sweat gathers at the base of my hair line. I run my hands through my hair, and when I lift my hand, I notice a small clump of hair. I flick the hair into the wastebasket before willing myself to get up from the bed to join the rest of my family for dinner.
Opening my bedroom door, my stomach rumbles when I smell the very familiar aroma of pizza. Closing my eyes, I gently massage my forehead, gathering as much willpower I have not to eat a slice. What is it with pizza? Everyone is always having damn pie.
“Pizza’s on the counter, grab a plate,” Mom says right before she folds a piece of pie, and stuffs half in her mouth.
“κούκλα,” Papou says as I stand eyeing the pizzas. He approaches and stands beside me.
“Yeah, Papou? Do you need something?” Anything to distract me from the pies.
“I’m okay. You okay?” He rubs gentle circles on my back. “Which one will you start with?”
None. I don’t want any. “Um.”
“Hurry up, Jane. We have something for you,” Dad announces.
I look for the smallest slice of pizza, but small doesn’t exist. I grab one, and instantly feel like I’m going to vomit if I put this slice anywhere near my mouth. I sit at the table, and start ripping the pizza into small pieces. Hopefully, no one will notice I haven’t eaten any if the pizza is deconstructed.
“Jane.”
I look up from my plate, to find Dad smiling at me. He holds out an envelope to me. “What’s this?” I hesitate, wipe my hands on my napkin, and reach to take it.
“Your birthday present.” He smiles. “We, um...”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, it’s okay.” I don’t need him to say they forgot to give it to me on my birthday. It’s not like I’m in a hurry to relive my eighteenth birthday. I’m working on burying that so far down that one day it won’t even be a memory. “Thank you.” I take the envelope, absolutely terrified to open it. Everyone eats, and as they do, all eyes are on me. My heart feels like it’s beating so hard, I can almost hear the thrumming in my own ears. I slowly tear the envelope open, and smile. “Thank you.”
“We thought after high school, you can go anywhere you want. Maybe before you start college?” Mom says.
“A travel voucher is awesome. Thank you.” It’s great, really. But I’m overwhelmed by everything at the moment.
“We talked to Emma and Presley, and both of them are keen to go with you,” Dad adds.
I don’t know why, and I don’t want them to feel like I don’t appreciate the thoughtful present, but all I want to do is hide out in my room alone. But I need to fake my reaction, even though I have no intention of ever going anywhere with anyone. “I love this, thank you so much.” I stand, and make my way around the table, giving everyone a kiss and a hug. “I’ll go put it in my room.”
I start walking out of the dining room, before Mom says, “Put it away after dinner. Sit, eat.”
Ugh. I thought I was going to be able to walk really slowly, then hang out in my room for a good five minutes, then say I need to go to the bathroom. By the time I’d done all of those things, dinner would be over, and I’d get out of eating. “Yeah, of course.” Think Jane, get out of eating. I sit again, and place the envelope next to me.
“How’s school?” Yiayia asks.
“Good.” I look down at the pieces on my plate.
“What are you doing? Anything interesting?” Dad asks.
“Nope.”
“Are you going to eat, Jane?” Mom asks.
I lick my lips before pushing them tightly together. I avoid her question, unable to answer it honestly. I pretend I didn’t hear her. It’s easier to avoid Mom all together than respond.
“Jane, your mom asked you a question,” Dad says.
My chest tightens, as if an elephant is sitting on it. I move my neck from side to side, trying to defuse the tension building in it.
“Jane?” Dad says, with assertively.
Tapping my fingers on the table, I stare down at my plate with all the tiny pieces of pizza scattered all over it. Shifting in my chair, I refuse to answer.
“Jane!” Dad barks.
My entire body tenses, my toes curl in my socks, my muscles become rigid as I feel everyone staring at me.
“Why aren’t you talking?” Mom asks, her voice soft with concern.
I bring both my hands under the table, and I start picking at the quick of my thumb nail. My stomach stirs, as my throat starts constrict.
“For God’s sake, why aren’t you answering us?” Dad slams his hand on the table, making me jump in my seat.
“Tom, calm down,” Mom lashes at Dad. “I’m sure she has a perfectly good explanation. Jane?”
I don’t need to look up to know Papou, Yiayia, Mom and Dad are all staring at me. So I do the only thing I can without actually speaking, I shrug.
“What does that shrug mean, Jane?” Mom asks.
I shrug again.
“Why aren’t you talking?” Dad pushes.
I lower my head further, unable to bring myself to look at them. I just can’t. I feel my chin tremble as I struggle to hold in what I really want to say. Because I’m fucking fat and I need to lose weight! Is that what they want to hear?
Instead, I shrug. Again.
“What the hell is going on, Jane?” Dad’s voice is quickly elevating, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to tell them.
“I’m not hungry,” I finally say in the tiniest of voices.
“What?” Mom asks.
I take a few deep breaths, wishing a giant sinkhole would open and consume me. That would be easier than what I’m going through. “I’m not hungry,” I say again, this time, so quietly I barely make any sound.
“Eat something, Jane,” Dad says in a firm voice.
I shake my head fiercely.
“Eat.”
I keep shaking my head.
I hear someone’s chair scrape back, then I notice Paopu’s shoes next to me. “κούκλα, here. Have some.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him place a slice on my plate, on top of all the little pieces.
“No, Papou.”
“You have to eat, to be strong,” he urges as he flexes his arm muscles.
I shake my head.
“κούκλα,” he pleads.
Closing my eyes, I shake my head. “No, Papou.”
“Jane, you need to eat,” Dad says again, this time in a calmer voice.
“Jane,” Yiayia says.
“Jane,” Mom echoes.
“κούκλα.”
They’re all trying to get me to eat. My right leg starts bouncing under the table, and I’m picking at my nail so much it’s actually hurting. My breathing is coming harder and faster, and sweat is coating my back, making my shirt stick to the skin. “No!” I yell. Standing, I break into tears. “I’m not eating and you can’t make me.”
