Bon Bons to Yoga Pants

Chapter 23-Dooms Day #3

"You didn't lose any weight this week."

I stared at Bitsy without comprehension, blinking at least four times before the words sank in.

"I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?"

"You didn't lose any weight this week, Lex. Sorry, but sometimes that happens. Just keep going and it'll come off."

Bitsy ushered me off the scale with a flapping motion, and I stepped onto my flip-flops, stunned. She marked a big fat zero on her clipboard of power.

"I don't understand," I replied, quickly pulling my hoodie back over my body. "How can I just . . . how can I not lose weight? I've been working so hard. I counted every single calorie. I started lifting weights!"

"You've had a couple of good weight loss weeks, so your body didn't lose this week. It doesn't have to be a big deal. So it was an off week? You'll have them."

Her laissez-faire reaction to this horrific tragedy intensified my anxiety. Why didn't drill sergeant Bitsy care that I hadn't met my goal? Why wasn't she yelling at me and telling me to do push-ups?

"I need to lose every week," I said with a mild feeling of panic. Ever since my last conversation with Bradley, I'd been on a roll. Working out every day. Counting each calorie. Drinking water until I nearly peed myself. To not lose weight? Injustice! "I'm on a deadline. I can't afford off weeks."

Bitsy eyed me with intense suspicion. "What kind of deadline?"

My steam faltered for a moment. "A self-imposed deadline."

"Your sister's wedding?"

"Yes!" I replied, weak with relief that I wouldn't have to mention Bradley. "And the ugliest hot pink dress in the world, if you must know. Every pound that doesn't come off my body is going to be swathed in tulle." I slapped my stomach with both hands. "It's gotta go."

Not to mention I just challenged the love of my life to go for a run with me before the wedding, and he accepted without fear of failure like mine.

Bitsy pursed her lips, looking so stern and strict that for a moment I felt relieved. Here it was; the lecture. She was going to tell me how to fix myself so that I could be hawt, hawt, hawt for Bradley.

"This is about that guy you like isn't it?" Bitsy asked. My eyes widened. She must have taken it as confirmation because she continued without encouragement. "Mira told me about your obsession with him although you haven't met yet. Is that why you're part of the Health and Happiness Society? Are you worried about losing weight for him?"

"Well . . . I mean, I'm sure it's for myself too but he plays a big . . . uh . . . a big part in my motivation."

Her carefully-and painfully-plucked eyebrows furrowed over her eyes. She wore her usual workout outfit, one that made it seem like this lifestyle was so easy for people like her. Like the rest of us, Bitsy had been losing weight as well, probably more than anyone although she never said numbers. It showed. Her face appeared thinner, her clothes a little baggy, and a bit of definition had come into her arms. She still didn't smile much, and despite working so hard toward a goal with relative success, didn't seem much happier by it.

"Losing weight is about you, not some guy. If you're only doing this for Bradley then you're doing it for the wrong reason. Trust me. Working hard to please someone else, instead of yourself, never brings happiness."

When a haunted glimmer appeared in her eyes, I wondered about her life and marriage. I'd never met her husband. Except for pictures of her two daughters, I didn't see photos of him anywhere.