I Used To Be

Chapter 4

Friday. Observation day. The end of my first week at VAB. Meeting with Cash later this afternoon. I was fucking hungry.

I woke up and did the same thing I did every single morning, especially this week: stripped naked and ran to the bathroom to jump on the scale. I didn't always count the first number I saw. Logically I knew it wasn't possible to lose weight in the shower, but for some reason, if I weighed myself before and after I showered, the second number was usually lower. So I counted that one.

Monday morning, my unpurged binge had left me at a swollen 126 pounds. I held my breath (as if that would help) and stepped on. 122. Holy fuck. I had lost 4 pounds this week. Maybe even more. I started the water for the shower, praying the little trick worked. I hadn't seen numbers this low since . . . well since the last time I'd managed to fast and take laxatives for 3 days, after which I felt like I was going to have a heart attack, which I celebrated with a massive binge, and regained most of the weight I'd lost. It was NOT going down like that this time. No way.

I showered, toweled off, removed the clip from my hair (you never know), and stepped back on the scale. 121.5. Thank you Jesus. Wow. This was amazing.

This was also the longest I'd gone without bingeing in years. Five whole days. But it was Friday. The weekend loomed, and again, I had the image of that cave, and especially its chill. I shivered with a violent jerk. How the fuck was I going to make it through an entire empty weekend without bingeing? I was going to have to stay super busy, even if it meant doing things I hated doing, like hanging out with people. Even hanging out with Mom would be better than risking too much alone time that would lead to bingeing. Plus I knew it would make her really happy. But spending time with Mom always made me want to binge. Fuck. Hm. Emily had Sundays off, but since that was her only day off, it was hard for her to get away from her family. Brandy. Maybe we could go riding? Maybe she was going to some stupid party and I could tag along? Brandy was probably my best bet.

Anna, breathe. You're covered for today. I had ballet this morning, Cash this afternoon, and I was much more worried about tomorrow than I was about this evening. I could just do the same things I'd been doing every evening: YouTube, reading, and hanging out on PAM. I could text Brandy later this afternoon about maybe going riding tomorrow. Okay, good. I had a plan. Now I could just focus on class. I felt confident. I knew I wasn't thin, but I was certainly thinner than I was earlier this week, or even the last time the Monroes had seen me. I wondered if they'd notice.

When I entered the studio, the Monroes were already there, but they were seated in the corner this time instead of dead center as they had been during my audition. That was a little less intimidating, but only slightly.

"Hello, Anna," Mr. Monroe said, smiling. Mrs. Monroe just sort of grimace-smiled and slightly tilted her head, in what I assumed was her attempt at a friendly greeting. "Don't mind us," he continued, "just dance as you've been doing all week."

"Okay," I said, giving them a shy smile, and then turning to the barre, propping my right leg up and extending my body over it. I heard the door at the back of the studio open. Isabelle. I removed my leg from the bar to turn to her, just as I felt her hand on my shoulder, and her lips near my ear. Dear Jesus. That violent shiver I'd had this morning while thinking about my empty weekend threatened to surge through me again, but for an entirely different reason this time.

"Remember, they're mostly observing me, not you," Isabelle whispered, her breath moving the stray strands of hair that had escaped from my bun. I held my breath. I could smell coffee, mint, and was that . . . cigarette smoke? Surely Isabelle didn't smoke. Maybe she lived with someone who did? Then why would it be on her breath? She pulled away, but jerked right back, this time the smoky odor was unmistakable. "Oh and you should probably take off your skirt; Mrs. Monroe will ask you to anyway." I just nodded and quickly pulled the end of the ribbon that was tied around my waist, releasing the sheer fabric from its protective embrace around my still too-large hips. I wadded it up and tossed it behind me, not sure what else to do with it. In one swift motion, Isabelle picked it up and walked it back to the office. Yikes, hopefully that wasn't a fuck-up already. I turned to look at her and she smiled and winked. That shiver. She had my back. The shivery feeling turned into a warm glow. She wanted me to succeed. We were in this together. I took first position confidently at the barre, and waited for her to go over the opening plie combination.