I Used To Be

Chapter 10, Part 1

Chapter 10

Don't faint, don't faint, Anna don't you dare fucking faint.

It was tech week. Day 1. I was waiting in the wings for my solo and I really felt like ass. That morning I weighed in at 89 pounds. 89. Pounds. This was literally an accident. I wanted to get under 100, but I figured I'd stop losing weight at like 95 or something. I had stuck to my 410 calorie diet for the entire rehearsal period. I had not binged once, since I figured bingeing and purging was responsible for my near-blackouts. But lately, I had been feeling really, really bad. I'd started taking an iron supplement, figuring that must be it. I mean, I had been adhering to a vegetarian diet, so I was probably low on iron or something. I had also been drinking water, but probably not enough since I had also been drinking a shit ton of diet soda and dancing was difficult when I had to keep running to the bathroom to pee. I thought caffeine would give me more energy, but everything had stopped working. So far, my dancing hadn't suffered, which continually amazed me. Somehow, I continued to pull it off, even though my head was in a constant fog. Thank God for muscle memory.

Maybe I should increase my calories this week?

No way. No serious dancer would ever increase her calories the week before a major performance. That would just be irresponsible. Maybe after Nutcracker was over. We had a two-week run, weekends only: Friday and Saturday evening, Saturday and Sunday matinees, so 2 performances on Saturday. Since we had a total of eight performances, the lead roles were split evenly -- Carrie did 4 Snow Queens and I did 4. They were divided up so that we both performed both weekends, and we split up the Saturday shows. She did the matinee one weekend, and I did it the next. This schedule allowed each of us to dance in every performance. He also didn't cast official understudies, making Carrie and I each others' understudies by default. Not that either of us would need them; we'd have to be dead not to perform. Literally dead.

Sometimes when I saw Carrie and I side-by-side, I almost looked thinner than her, which wasn't possible of course. It just meant that I was standing in a skinny part of the mirror. But to my surprise, she hadn't really lost much weight for the performance. I mean, maybe like 5 pounds, but I had lost 13 since we were cast and 37 since I joined the company. It didn't seem possible that a fat, lazy shit like me could have lost 37 pounds in 6 months, but somehow I had. It was definitely my proudest achievement. Probably in life, actually. Sometimes it made me feel like maybe I was worth something after all, but that feeling was usually short-lived. Because I absolutely had to hate myself to keep my eating in check. This I knew. If I started to have any compassion for myself whatsoever, this stupid little whiny bitch voice would kick in. I called it the devil. It would say, "You've worked so hard, and you know you need to eat more. You're exhausted, weak. Why don't you just go to Whole Foods and eat a good dinner? Just one night. One dinner won't hurt you." I had to shut that shit down immediately. I mostly went to PAM for support, but sometimes those bitches tried to sabotage me, saying things like, "Yeah, maybe you should just eat like one dinner? Your BMI is pretty low. It would probably make you feel better." Signed with a smiley face. Right, bitch, Like you would do that. I sure as fuck wasn't going to blow it now. I'd come way, way too far to get fat a week before the most important performance of my life so far, that, if it went well, it would lead to even more important performances. No, one dinner wasn't worth all that.

The best side benefit of losing weight was that it made me not give a fuck. About anything. Cash was officially my boyfriend now and I didn't care. I lost my virginity to him, big deal. I felt nothing about it. Maybe a little sick. I almost binged that night, but I stayed strong. And Isabelle. She didn't care a thing about me anymore. She had tried to say something once to me about my weight loss, to which I replied, "oh, so now you care about me?" I mean, she had tried to talk to me a few times, but I always shut her down. I fucking hated her. Almost to the point that I hope she fell during her fouettes on stage. Almost.

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