Sunday, September 12, 2010

Runaway Anorexic

Sloot #1: This is the funny chubby guy I told you about, Ricky Butcher.
Ricky: Hey! There’s nothing funny about my chubby guy.

~Sons of Butcher

11:10 am

God. An hour and twenty minutes till I’m sprung!

Well. For eight hours.

My plans are still kinda up in the air, but that’s okay, I think. M doesn’t know when Baby and her (whore-faced) mum will be back, so Dad has agreed to come and pick me up at 12:30. We’re going to go back to his house, so I can get the dogs, and go for a walk. Then, if Gigi ever answers her phone, I’m going to go and pick up the money she owes me from the summer, and head down to the tattoo shop to see StevO.


So. I didn’t make it.

I really thought I was gonna. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have gone out for supper. It was too much, too soon.

Before I binged and purged, I had a really god day. Dad was waiting outside the Group room right at 12:30, and once we had signed out at the desk, we were on our way back to his house. When we got there, the dogs and I went into apoplexy from our joyful reunion, and someone got a little too excited.
There was some peeing. I’m not saying who.

Dad took some time off from his overload of work to go for a walk with us, which was nice. My energy was a little bit low, so I kept one earbud in, until Dad told me I was practically yelling at him. Then I just wrapped them around my neck, so I could still hear the faint notes of System of a Down screaming from far away.

When we returned from our walk, I called Randy to check in, and then placed my call to Gigi. I had spoken to her earlier in the morning, and we had agreed that I would call her at 1:30, then head over to her place to pick up my money.

“Hi,” she answered, even though my number shows up private.

“Hey,” I said. “I’m just leaving now.”

“Well, I’m just at the bank, trying to see if I can even get your money today,” she said sharply. “And then I want to do some shopping while I’m down this end of town.”

What the fuck? thought I irritably. I’m on a fucking eight hour pass from a hospital! You can’t change our appointment time.

“I’ll call you when I get back home,” she said airily, and hung up before I could say anything else.

Huh, I thought, staring moodily at my dead phone. Sometimes, I really don’t fucking like you, Gigi.

I still had the money that she had given me during her (fucking disastrous) visit to the hospital last week, which was more than enough to pay the deposit for my tattoo. I would have just enough to get the two toiletries I had narrowed it down to - Lancome mascara, and Aveda Hair Potion, though I can wait to get that when I get out of the hospital, methinks.

I was really proud of myself for letting go of all the shitloads of stuff (I thought) I needed, because that is something I really need to work on, to help me get out of dancing. I have to get used to the fact that I can no longer just buy whatever I want, cuz there will always be more money. I don’t actually need any of it, and when I can let go of the need for more, more, more!, then I will be able to free myself from fucking dancing.

It’s going to be really hard, going from getting so much money for so little work, to the exact opposite - working for minor ducats at a thankless job. But if I work on always wanting money and more more more, I think it will make things so much easier.

Any-fucking-hoo, where was I?

Oh right, Gigi was too busy fucking shopping to meet me and pay me, and I hadn’t heard from M yet, which meant that he hadn’t picked up Baby yet. So I put an exceptional amount of effort into my make-up, then got ready to go downtown to the tattoo parlor, stopping by The Bay to grab my mascara.

I was just getting my coffee ready for the drive when M called.

“Hey,” I answered.

“Hey,” he said. “How are you?”

“I’m really good,” I said, and it was true. Fuck Gigi, I was still having a good day.

“Good,” he said. “Baby and I are just leaving my parents house.”

“Okay, well I’m just headed downtown to the tattoo parlor,” I said. “Do you guys want to come too, or should we meet up after?”

“Um, let’s just meet up after. Baby can’t go in the shop, so...” he trailed off.

I thought he sounded disappointed that I was still going to go, and asked him as much.

“No, babe,” he said. “It’s okay. Go do what you gotta do. Do you want to come up here after?”

“Yes. Yes, I do,” I smiled.

“Okay, then,” he said.

“Okay, I’ll call you when I’m done,” I said, grabbing my coffee mug out of of the microwave and dumping it into a travel mug.

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye,” I hung up, and grabbed my coffee and car keys. “Doggies! Car ride! Let’s go!”

Holy crap - Billy obviously hasn’t been going for too many car rides lately. He nearly pooped himself with excitement, before running into the wall.

We drove quickly to The Bay, where I parked about halfway as far as was possible from the store. Then I cranked Mr. Reznor, who was still playing System of a Down, and ran all the way to the front doors.

Runaway Anorexic, coming through! Move it or lose it, asshole.

Holy fuck, I was so winded by the time I reached the store. They weren’t kidding when they said we would prolly have trouble with low energy on our first day out of hop-sital. Fuck me.

I grabbed my Lancome oscillating mascara (it’s worth every smegging penny, thank-you) and then cranked Mr. Reznor up even louder for the run back to the car.

I hopped in and booked it towards downtown. I no longer have a credit card, being bankrupt and all, so I had to search for 2 hour parking close to the store. I found a spot about three blocks away, and tried to run to the tattoo parlor, but I could only run for one block, then walk for one, then run again for the third. Though in my defense, I was carrying my computer.

I finally blazed up the stairs and into the tattoo shop.

“Hi there,” the girl behind the desk said with a smile.

I looked up and smiled back. I recognized her from the last time I was there.

Fuck, her arms look so good! I thought, admiring her full sleeves.

I grabbed StevO’s book off the stand.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Full Sleeves Girl asked.

“Yup. I want to put a deposit down for StevO,” I said, walking up to the desk and plopping down in the empty rolley chair.

“Sure,” she said, and spun her own chair around to grab an appointment book. “What exactly do you want done?”

“I’ll show you,” I said, and flipped up my laptop. “This girl here,” I said, and turned the computer around for her to see.

“Whoa,” she said, taking in my anorexic angel. “That’s wild.”

“Mmmmm,” I said. I knew it was weird. But it was mine.

“StevO, can you do this?” Full Sleeves rolled her chair through the shop, and landed in front of another fully sleeved individual. I followed in my own rolley chair, adding a couple of spins and a few Chicago Jazz Hands! on my way through.

I twirled to a stop beside Full Sleeves Girl, then turned to assess my new tattoo artist. StevO had a long, greying goatee and dark blue eyes, a smattering of piercings, and sleeves that had been reworked so many times, his arms looked black. He was bent over working on some dude's arm, who was laid out on his chair in front of him.

He looked up from coloring in a skull on buddy’s arm. "What?"

"This," Sleeves said, and handed him my laptop.

He looking closely at my iMac.

“Holy fuck,” he said. “That is fucking wild.”

“Ha ha!" Sleeves laughed. "That’s what I just said.”

“Seriously,” he said, tracing his fingers over the mousepad and zooming in. “Look at that!"

He looked up at me, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. I smiled back winningly, as if to show him it wasn't me in that picture.

He looked back at my angel. "I’ve never done something like this," he confessed. "Look at her! She’s so...thin. She looks like she’s dying. That’s fucking wicked.”

I'm in the hospital with her right now, I thought. I could get you an autograph.

He handed me back my iMac.

“Can you put pointe shoes on her?” I asked hopefully.

“Put what?” he asked.

“Um, pointe shoes? Like toe shoes, ballerina toe shoes?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” he said, and I decided I would email him some pictures, so he would know what the fuck he was talking abooot.

“Okay, then, thanks,” I grinned.

“No problem,” he said, and turned back to buddy’s arm.

“Okay,” Sleeves rolled back over to the desk. “Let’s book your appointment.”

Turns out that, what with the Tattoo Convention coming up and all, StevO doesn’t have an appointment available for two MONTHS!

I was disappointed, but I booked it anyway.

And then I realized, hey - that gives me two months to pay it off. That’s a lot of time. Which means that I don’t have to do anything stupid like dance to pay it off!

Funny how things work sometimes, n’est pas?

I paid my deposit, then strapped on my iPod and ran/walked/ran back to my car.

I called M as I was pulling out of our parking spot, to let him know the dogs and I were on our way.

As I turned into his driveway twenty minutes later, I couldn’t help but wonder if Baby would remember me. Well, not remember me, I didn’t think she had forgotten me, per se. But I wondered if the intimacy we once shared would have dissolved in the month since we had last seen each other.

I opened the front door, and let the dogs run in ahead of me. “Hello?” I called.

The dogs ran to the top of the basement stairs, and a moment later I heard Baby squeal with delight.

Then she was at the top of the stairs with M, and I tentatively put my hands out and smiled.

“Kagie!” she said, and ran into my arms! She ran into my arms!

She still loved me!

“Weeeeee!” I squealed, and lifted her off the ground. “My girl! I missed you so much!”

“Hi,” M came to the top of the stairs, smiling.

“Hi,” I smiled back.

He had suggested we go to Build-A-Bear with Baby, but she had decided that she wanted to stay and play at home instead. So we went outside in the backyard with the dogs and played for over an hour, until it was time to go and meet Dad at GFish, the restaurant I had chosen for us all to go to tonight.

Ah, GFish. My mother fucking downfall.

I felt okay at the restaurant. It was really hard to do my Mindful Eating crap, as Baby and I sat beside each other, and I wanted to be a good stepmum, too. But I stuck to what I said I was going to do, which was to eat exactly half of the rolls I had ordered, to make sure I didn’t get too full. I also shared some edamame beans, agedashi tofu, and vegetable tempura with M and Dad, then helped Baby finish her noodles.

But it was all just so fucking GOOD. The tempura, that deep fried goodness! The crunch of it, then the release of sweet, delicious grease into my mouth. It was incredible. After so many days of depriving myself, it was just too much, too soon.

Even though I had eaten the amount I said I was going to, I started to panic as soon as we got back in the car. I put the styrofoam container of leftovers down between the back seats, and held hands with Baby while we drove, but I kept looking at it as we drove back to M’s house.

Eat it! Eat it! Eat it! Ed screamed. Oh God, it’s so fucking good. Just eat it!

Yeah, my own voice screamed back. Just eat it! You can’t take it into the hospital with you, and you don’t want to give it away. It’s too good, just eat it!

I walked M and Baby into the house, and gave Baby a kiss goodbye before she ran downstairs to play.

“I gotta get going, baby,” I said to M.

“I know,” he said. “Are you okay?”

I hesitated.

“Not really,” I confessed.

“Yes, you are,” he smiled, and gave my hands a squeeze. “You are okay.”

“I don’t feel okay, baby,” I gulped. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Hey, I ate the same thing,” he said soothingly, “and it’s okay in my belly. It can be okay in your belly, too.”

“B-But...” I stammered. I wanted to tell him that I needed to get this food out of me now, because I didn’t think it was possible for him to love me if I were fat again; that the food couldn’t stay, because my face wasn’t pretty enough for him to still find me attractive if I gained weight; that there would be nothing left but a fat, ugly girl; that he would regret encouraging me to gain weight.

“I just...I’m scared that you won’t be attracted to me anymore, if i get fat,” I said lamely.

“Hey,” he said, and wrapped his hand around my upper arm. “You know I like you better when I can’t do this.” And he touched his thumb and forefinger together around my bicep.

But you’ve never seen me fat! I wanted to explain. No one can love that.

The panic was upon me. Ed was winning.

“How bout I’ll kiss you, if you don’t do it,” he offered, and I groaned.

I wanted so badly for him to kiss me, and to tell me that he loves me - two things that he cannot and will not do when he is angry with me/has been hurt by me.

I knew that Ed was too strong, that I was going to lose this battle. The terror of what I would become if I didn’t get this food out of me was just too great.

So I didn’t let him kiss me. And when I left his house and got back on the road, I finished the leftovers while I drove back to Dad’s house, and stopped to purge along the way.

I thought I wouldn’t care, you know? Like, what was one more time, after thousands of others? And anyway, I went THIRTEEN DAYS without purging, which I have NEVER done before, ever. (Seriously, I haven’t gone more than two days without purging since I started this whole thing eight years ago. And those two days were fucking hell - I clung on by the skin of my fucking teeth.)

These are the things I (Ed) told myself after I had purged, as I raced Trent the Tracker up the hill to Dad’s house. But when we were on our way back to the hospital, something weird happened.

“How do you feel?” Dad asked, after a few minutes of silence.

“Not very good, Dad,” I said, and suddenly I started to cry. “I didn’t make it.”

Why are you crying? Ed yelled. You don’t care, remember?

No, I don’t remember that, DICK NUTS! I screamed back. I fucking HATE YOU.

Whatever, he yawned. I saved you tonight. You should be thanking me, fuck face.

Just you wait till next Sunday, you stupid little shit, I thought. Just you fucking wait.

And that's really all I can do about it. I can learn from my mistakes today, and I can make sure I have a better plan in place for next Sunday, when the real battle begins again, but I can't change the fact that this time, Ed won.

Fucking. Dick Nuts.

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