Euthanize This Kitty

"Look, buds, I’m glad you like my meat, but I don’t swing that gay."

~Sol Butcher

7:00 pm

Um. I’m actually having a really good day today. I am trying really hard not to let it be affected in any way by the fact that M didn’t respond to my text about my 30 Day chip last night, or bother to show up to hop-sital to visit me tonight, like he said he would. Or even call.

He’s been distant for a while, now, so it’s not like this is a surprise. It fucking hurts, but I’m not gonna use over it, I’m not gonna drink over, I’m not even gonna eat over it - and I’m still right here in treatment, getting stronger every day. I cannot control M or what he thinks or how he feels, and accepting that is essential to my recovery. And surprisingly, I think I have accepted that.

It still fucking hurts, though.

9:45 pm

Speak of the devil! If I hadn’t been too goddamn cowardly to call him, I could have saved M the trip to the hop-sital to visit me, half an hour before my AA meeting.

I was sitting up in my hop-sital bed, watching Colbert on my MacBook, when he texted at 7:24. You around?

Yes, I replied, my heart in my mouth. I knew he was about to tell me to go fuck myself.

A moment later, he walked through the door of our hop-sital dorm room.

My mouth dropped open. But...I thought you were...

“What are you doing here?” I blurted out rudely.

He hesitated, his steps faltering. “I said I would come and visit you tonight,” he said, a little taken aback.

“Yeah, but I have AA in half an hour,” I said, frustrated. Why didn’t you answer me last night? Everyone else did.

“Oh,” he said, slowly approaching my bed again and handing me my mail.

“Didn’t you get my text last night?” I pressed on.

“No,” he said, and pulled out his phone. “Oh, one missed text, from you. Hey, you got your chip!”

Argh!

I wanted to be mad at him, but what I really was, was disappointed in myself. All I had to do was call him today and find out why he hadn’t replied to my text the night before, and to see if he was still coming to see me in hop-sital tonight, so I could let him know about the AA meeting. But I didn’t want to hear that maybe he just wasn’t interested in seeing me anymore, so I didn’t call him. I just hid from the situation, instead of being proactive and dealing with it - taking the risk that yes, maybe I wouldn’t like the answer that I got, but at least I would have an answer, and could proceed from there - instead of agonizing in the land of the unknown, or worse, the land of my imagination.

Sound familiar, Kagie? Fucking durrr.

We only had a few minutes together. M sat on my hop-sital bed and showed me some pics on Facebook of a show he just played recently, and oh God, it was horrible. He looked so good, I just wanted to cry. It actually hurt, physically made my insides ache, how good he looked. He was wearing a tight black shirt with the sleeves ripped off, with an illustration of all the muscles and tendons of the human body drawn in white over the front of the shirt.

To me it just looked like his muscles and tendons.

Oh, God. I wanted to reach up beside me and stroke his pecs, right there in the hop-sital. I always loved to touch his pecs.

He used to love to touch mine, too.

“Let’s go sit in the hall,” I suggested instead.

We had a few more minutes together, before Mum showed up with tea (thank-you Mummy). Things were a little awkward. Sometimes I am so intimidated by how good looking M is, I can't look him in the eye, and I feel really stupid and self conscious, and like I can't breathe. I hope that as I learn to be more comfortable in my own skin, I will eventually get over this. It's very...it's just...it's like a wall. It's just another wall between him and I, that maybe I allow cuz it's easier than the strength of what I really feel. I know I don't do it on purpose, per se, and I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to stop completely, but there you go. It is what it is. Whatever the fuck it is.

How's that for introspection for ya? Raha!

Anyway, Percy showed up at the Nurse's Station to take me downstairs to the meeting, so M and Mum both left, and my blood pressure eventually returned to normal. I ended up being grateful that I had put so much effort into my makeup today. M said that I looked really good.

Tee hee! STOP it.

Now, then. Let's move onto more treatment related stuffs, shall we?

Guess what miserable, back-alley fucking stray joined our anorexic therapy group this evening? One that really should be put out of her misery, but was fobbed off on us instead?

That’s right! Kitty! Remember, the one they had to hold down and shove a tube up her nose, so they could Force Feed the Kitty? MMMWWWOOORRRRR.

Christ. I hope they force an enema on her soon, too, and clear out whatever’s up her arse. She is just miserable. She was forced to join us in the Group Room for Dinner tonight, and from the moment she (very reluctantly) entered the room, she was a bitchin'.

“I don’t want to sit there...No, I won’t sit there either...I’m not going to fucking eat that...I want my roommate back! I don’t want to live with Auschwitz-the-Lifer, she’s got a fucking eating disorder. No offense, Auschwitz."

Auschwitz stared up at her, gormless and speechless (as usual).

"I said I’m not going to fucking eat that, are you deaf?" Kitty continued bitching to Abbey, the poor Nurse's Assistant who got saddled with Dinner duty tonight. "I wish I could trade places with Kurt Cobain right now (Nirvana was on the radio)...I have to go to the bathroom...Now! I don’t care what the rules are...I don’t want to eat with these fucking girls. I have to see them all the time anyway, I don’t want to fucking eat with them, too.

“No offense,” She muttered to the Group at large, as she eyed us disdainfully. 

“Oh, none taken, Kitty, none taken,” I beamed up at her brightly, and watched as she turned back to the Nurse's Assistant. "MMMWWWOOORRR!" I hissed under my breath.

The other girls looked up from their dinners and froze in shock, their forks suspended in midair. Then Mumbles snorted into her dinner and covered her face with her hand, and the other girls dissolved too, giggling and snorting into their respective meals. 

God. What a miserable fucking COW Kitty is. 

After Abbey begged me to switch seats to accommodate Miss Kitty, which I shrugged and did without comment, she finally sat down in MY chair with a dramatic sigh, and lifted her plastic plate-cover. She had the same dinner as I tonight, a veggie patty on a whole wheat bun, with a slice of tomato and a leaf of lettuce.

She discarded the lettuce and tomato (why? Bad anorexic! That's the least calories, stupid) and disassembled the burger, then grabbed her knife and quickly began cutting the veggie patty into tiny little pieces.

“Kitty, what are you doing?” Abbey, the NA, asked.

She kept cutting.

“You can’t do that,” Abbey said to her.

She continued to cut.

 "Kitty," said Abbey sharply. “You’re supposed to eat it like a burger.”

“Well, how the fuck am I supposed to know that?” Kitty threw her knife onto the table with a clatter. I couldn’t help but notice, though, that she had finished cutting her patty into dozens of little pieces.

Hmmm. In.ter.esting.

Abbey sighed, then opened the Group door and leaned out. A moment later, she reappeared with Leslie, one of the family counselors.

“Kitty,” Leslie motioned to her. “Come out here, please.”

With another long suffering sigh, she got up from her (my) chair and stomped out of the room, taking both the NA and the counselor with her.

Fucking brat, I thought, and took a bite out of my veggie burger. Oh God, that's good.

Abbey and Leslie escorted Kitty back into the room a minute later. She sullenly plopped down into her seat and waited for them to leave, but she wasn’t giving up the ghost just yet. As soon as Leslie left the room, and it was just Abbey the NA on her own again, Kitty started to eat just the dry bun, leaving the veggie patty in pieces on her plate.

“What did we just tell you?” Abbey asked, exasperated.

“I dunno,” she mumbled, through a mouthful of bread.

“You have to Eat. It. Like. A. Burger.”

“Fine, then can I have some fucking ketchup or some shit? Relish? Something?”

“No,” Mumbles cut in. “You have to put condiments on your menu beforehand.”

“But I didn’t get to do my own fucking menu,” Kitty snapped.

“Gee, that’s too bad,” Mumbles said gleefully, and I snorted into my tea.

Ding Dong! I thought. She’s gonna blow.

Kitty scraped her chair back and stood up, then walked over to the little kitchenette. “Well, what condiments can I put on my burger?”

“Ranch dressing,” Mumbles replied. (Why can you put Ranch dressing on absolutely anything here, but every other condiment must be requested prior to eating? What's so fucking special about Ranch dressing?!)) 

Muttering yet more obscenities under her breath, Kitty reached into the condiments drawer and started  rummaging around. Then - get this - she pulled out a mustard and a ketchup, and started back towards the table.

Bitch, are you for real? I wondered, amazed.

Mumbles and Abbey both spoke at the same time. “You can’t do that!”

She turned around and threw the packets roughly back in the open drawer, before grabbing a Ranch dressing and slamming the drawer shut, then stomping back to her seat.

Where she proceeded to eat the veggie patty in it's tiny little pieces, and then the bun, dipped in the lightest coating of Ranch dressing. Then, when Abbey tried to stop her from leaving the Group room, she told the poor girl to go fuck herself, and walked out anyway. 

Ker-ist, thought I. Someone euthanize this fucking Kitty.