ThinandBeautiful.com (15 page)

I wonder how much this place does cost? Where are my parents getting the money? I don't think they're exactly among the über-rich. I've heard them worrying about paying for university
and stuff like that. Steve works part time all year and full time in the summer to help pay his way through. He even lives at home to save on rent and food and things like that. He's going to be some kind of engineer or something equally guy-like. Not that I buy into the whole gender-specific thing. I mean, I totally know that girls can do everything guys can – and a few things they can't. My grandma gave me this whole speech one day about how lucky girls of my generation are and how great we have it because we can have it all, career and kids. I suppose guys kind of have the same options these days too, even maternity leave without having to give birth first. Once guys have to have periods, PMS, babies, and stretch marks, the world will be a much fairer place. Anyway, I guess we all can choose to be whatever we want to be. The problem is that I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I don't even want to think about it. I'm having enough trouble just surviving being a teenager long enough to actually make it to being grown-up. People keep asking me what I want to “do.” Right now all I want to do is get through high school … which is going to be pretty hard if they don't let me out of here.

I am going to be so far behind. I can't believe they took me out of school for this. All my life, my parents have given me the big “school is important” speech. You know the one. School is the key to your future. A good education will get you the job you want. A good education will teach you to think outside of the box and become a full contributor to society. Blah, blah, blah. So they shoot me the lines for seventeen years and then decide that it's OK to pull me out of school before I can even finish grade eleven. That means I'll have to finish grade
eleven in grade twelve and then I won't be able to graduate with my own age group and will have to come back and do a victory lap. Victory lap. That's what they call it when a kid has to stay in school for five years instead of four. I have trouble seeing the victory in that. It's more of a loser lap, which I now have to do because of my parents. I don't want to go to school by myself when everyone I grew up with moves on! I mean, even if I'm not exactly friends with any of them anymore, it's still better than having all the younger kids know I couldn't get through school like a normal person.

All through school, Annie and I used to talk about going to university together. I never thought it would happen any other way. We even had the school picked out. Growing up doesn't ever seem to turn out the way you plan it.

I don't know if there is any GWS left because I'm not allowed to talk to them anymore. I mean, what if they found some other group to join and I can't find them or something? Then I'd be lost and on my own for real.

Marina is cool, though, and funny. I shouldn't admit it but it's especially funny when she bugs Wolf. I think I'm kind of pissed that he ditched me at group. Not that we were on a date or anything, but he did sit with me and then leave me alone. Typical guy. Typical guy reaction to me, anyway.

Maybe Marina and I should make our own group. We can plot the demise of this “guesthouse” and draw up a plan for world domination.

I wasn't actually looking for a boyfriend. I didn't have a lot of time. Keeping my weight under control took up a lot of it. I had to study my calorie books and websites, I had to chat with my girls to learn new ways to get my weight down, and then I had to work on the new ways until I got them right. Somewhere in there, I had to fit in my schoolwork and spend enough time with my parents to keep them off my case.

I didn't have to fit Annie in so much though. After the whole Taylor fiasco, I didn't know what to do. I was so mad at her, I didn't know how to talk to her. So, at first I just didn't. I made sure I headed for school a little later than usual so we didn't accidentally meet up on the way. I left school right after the afternoon bell rang so I wouldn't bump into her on the front steps. I was acting like a reverse stalker and it started to feel silly. By the time we could almost smell the summer I gave up and starting heading for school at my usual time, telling myself that I wasn't exactly looking for her but if I happened to bump into her I might try saying hello.

We did ‘bump' into each other and I did say hello. It was awkward at first. We both carefully avoided talking about anything to do with Taylor or weight or computers. We stuck with homework and other unimportant topics. We slid into a new kind of relationship, sort of a friendship without the fun or the trust or the understanding. We walked to school and back together when the timing worked and talked a bit in the halls. She came over once in a while but never stayed long and called me once or twice. I don't remember if I bothered trying to call her or go over to her place. Probably not. I was pretty busy, after all.

I didn't make much effort to see the other girls either. I didn't really have time for anyone outside of school with all of the other things I had to focus on. I talked to them online sometimes, but I honestly couldn't find very much to say. I didn't run and hide or anything when I saw them at school, but I didn't try to find them either. I was busy at lunch, trying to get caught up on schoolwork I hadn't done at night, so I wasn't in the cafeteria very often. When I did make it in, I usually sat with Suzanne Albright and co. I still didn't have much to say to them either but they didn't seem to care. I guess I was a bit like a table decoration, an extra groupie to make sure that SA's popularity quotient stayed high. I didn't go to any more parties though. She did invite me once or twice but my waist wasn't ready. I didn't tell her that though. I came up with some other pathetic excuse that she didn't really care about.

It was tough keeping my parents off my case. They had obviously been talking to each other and had maybe even done some research on the Internet on the sites that warped your
perspective, because they were trying all sorts of ways to get me to eat. They thought they were being subtle and clever, but they were pathetically obvious.

My dad was the worst and the hardest to deal with. I mean, he was such a quiet guy most of the time, and I didn't want to upset him when he tried to do things for me but his new trick was a problem. He started bringing me little treats and then standing there with this puppy-dog look on his face waiting for me to eat them. I didn't want to upset him and then have him go to Mom and upset her so I ate them. He would look so happy when I did it that I felt OK about it for a minute or two.

But only for a minute or two. Once he backed off and left me alone, I would start to feel the panic. I mean, that stupid brownie was inside me! All that fat and sugar just itching to get into my fat cells and bloat me up. I could actually see my stomach growing right before my eyes. I had to do something. I couldn't leave it in there!

The first couple of times, I tried exercising it away. I looked up the calorie count and tried to figure out exactly how much I had to do to burn it off. A couple of weeks after the party, I had finally managed to spend a little time with Devon running on the track and learning how to pace myself so I could run farther and burn more calories. Not that I told Devon that was the reason I needed to run. Someone that amazingly tall, naturally thin, and totally athletic wouldn't have understood me any more than Annie. Actually, I only ran with her once or twice, and then I started running on the treadmill at home instead because it was just easier. Either way, running calories
away took time and when I didn't have enough of that, the fat and sugar would actually stay in there and start to grow and multiply.

I had to do something else. I couldn't stop my dad from bringing me the treats and there weren't enough hours in the day to exercise everything away. I didn't want to admit it right away but it seemed that the only solution was what everyone called purging. Puking. Barfing. Upchucking. Whatever you wanted to call it, it seemed kind of gross to me. But what else could I do? I didn't want to upset my dad any more than I had to and I absolutely couldn't allow my body to keep all of that garbage inside where it could fester and fatten.

The first time I finally made myself do it was after my dad had brought me one of those ice cream “Drumsticks” that were way too big to be called a stick. He sat there and watched me eat it and I had to smile at him and say thanks. As soon as he left, I went to the bathroom and stood looking at the toilet. I didn't know if I could do it. I had read some stuff about it on the Internet and had some ideas about how to do it in my head. I looked at my hand and tried to imagine putting my fingers down my throat. I looked at my stomach and tried to imagine the ice cream staying in my gut, turning into horrible fat and ruining all of my hard work. I couldn't let that happen! The thought of it was a nightmare of major proportions that made tears come to my eyes and my throat ache. I had to do something. I had to do it fast before my body betrayed me and it was too late to get rid of it.

I closed my eyes and leaned over. I shoved my fingers down until I started to gag, the way I had read about. I could feel my
stomach heaving and I stopped for a moment. I leaned my head against the toilet and took a breath. I could feel the ice cream sitting in my stomach like a plague. I had to get rid of it! I tried again. This time the gagging and heaving happened faster and suddenly the ice cream was in the water. I sat back on the floor. I felt sick and my mouth tasted awful and my throat ache had turned into a harsh throbbing. Even my eyes hurt as if I had tried to pop them out of my face. I put my hands against my closed eyes, pressing them back into place and rocking back and forth on the bathroom floor. I felt horrible. Sick and sore and slightly guilty for some unknown reason.

But the ice cream was gone. I could please my dad and still keep my body. I told myself it was worth it. Of course it was worth it. It was something I had to do. I really had no choice. Did I?

I lay down on the cool tiles and stared up at the ceiling, trying to persuade myself that I shouldn't feel like I had done something wrong. I wondered how long it was until it was time to talk to the girls and get some opinions that might help me figure out my own.

divinethinspiration says:
hi guys.

bodaciousbod says:
hey kid

nevertoothin says:
hi dt

lookingforlight says:
hey

divinethinspiration says:
i have a question again

lookingforlight says:
we might have an answer again. lol

divinethinspiration says:
do you all do the purging thing?

bodaciousbod says:
some do. not all. y?

divinethinspiration says:
tried to today for first time. grossed me out a little but felt ok to get rid of ice cream.

nevertoothin says:
ice cream is easy. good to start with it.

divinethinspiration says:
it was hard to do.

bodaciousbod says:
gets easier for some. some can't stand it so try other things.

divinethinspiration says:
like?

lookingforlight says:
ppl have their own thing. exercise, water diet, laxatives.

bodaciousbod says:
hate laxatives. some do diet pills. i don't. makes me feel weird.

lookingforlight says:
u r weird bb

bodaciousbod says:
hahahahahahahahah sooooo funny!!!!!!!!!

nevertoothin says:
yeah, well i forgot to laugh.

divinethinspiration says:
u guys are crazy

lookingforlight says:
but beautiful, right?

nevertoothin says:
totally going there. no shadows.

lookingforlight says:
just light … i'm almost where i want to be.

divinethinspiration says:
where is that?

lookingforlight says:
not a place. just a size.

nevertoothin says:
a size that feels like a place. like ur going somewhere nice where ppl think u look good

bodaciousbod says:
everyone accepts u

divinethinspiration says:
sounds like a nice place

lookingforlight says:
totally

divinethinspiration says:
so i'm not a bad person for puking up my dad's presents?

bodaciousbod says:
no. you aren't hurting anyone.

nevertoothin says:
none of us r hurting anyone. we just want to be ourselves. our true selves.

bodaciousbod says:
our true blue beautiful shadow-free awesome wonderful selves

lookingforlight says:
miss positive today!

bodaciousbod says:
it's a good day. lost 3 more pounds. almost at my goal. break the 90.

nevertoothin says:
congrats

lookingforlight says:
double from me

divinethinspiration says:
triple from me. thx guys

lookingforlight says:
that's thx
girls
yl!

divinethinspiration says:
sorry,
girls
.

We kept on talking for hours and it was almost three when I got to bed. I knew I was going to pay for it in the morning but I didn't care. That kind of tired was worth it. I needed my friends and they were there for me. I had to be there for them, too.

Like they told me, I got better and better at it over time. It was still a little gross, but I practiced every time Dad gave me something. I even bought things sometimes just to give myself some extra practice. I got to the point where I could actually use my stomach muscles to get the heaving going without the fingers some of the time, which was a better way to go because it didn't mess up my throat as much and was quieter. I worked hard on being quiet because I obviously didn't want anyone
to know. Our house has three bathrooms and I made sure to use the one furthest away from everyone any time I needed it. I ran the sink water or the shower so that no one would hear. I was really good at it and no one even suspected my secret. Or so I thought for a while.

“Madison, come out here! What are you doing?” My dad was pounding on the bathroom door one Friday evening. He had come home from work with homemade cookies from the bakery and I had eaten one after supper. I had managed to get rid of the cookie and half my supper, which was excellent because it meant less treadmill, and I got kind of distracted and didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs in time to stop.