Still Not Skinny

I keep finding myself standing here in front of the refrigerator with the door open. All the food seems to be screaming at me. It’s as if it’s saying “Eat me, eat me! You know you want to!” After another moment of torture, I close the door.

“Julia, you aren’t hungry. You’re bored. Go upstairs and do some homework.” I quietly say aloud to myself.

With a deep breath, I turn and briskly walk to my room on the second floor of our house. I plop down on the purple carpeted floor and pull over my enormous math book. I blankly stare at it for a little while, never opening it. I have no ambition to do any work. In frustration, I lay down on my back. Soon I find myself doing a set of crunches. At first I don’t even realize I’m doing them. The repetitive up and down motion is so familiar to me that I don’t notice what I am doing until I reach about a hundred and my abs start tensing up. The tiny burning sensation is like a drug for me; I can’t get enough of it. It pushes me on to do more despite the strain on my lower back and the miniscule beads of sweat forming on various parts of my body. Once I reach two hundred crunches I begin doing push-ups and soon enough I’m going through my whole workout routine.

Working out is something I do at least 5 times a day. Sometimes that still doesn't feel like enough. My routine has become second nature to me and- in my mind- much more productive than doing homework. This probably has something to do with why I'm failing math. Not that I care. My brain is like a calculator. Math comes easy to me, especially since I'm always calculating calories in my head. I just never have any ambition to do the work.

Once I finish running through my routine, I walk over to my mirror and lift up my shirt. I can barely bring myself to look at the hideous girl looking back at me. I hate being reminded that this girl is me. Running my hands over my stomach, I let out a sigh. Still not skinny. I wonder how long this is going to take. Determined to see if I made any progress whatsoever, I run downstairs into the bathroom and pull out the digital scale. In a few seconds, I have stripped down to only my under garments. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and as my feet come in contact with the scale, my heart stops. I look down for the moment of truth.

The scale reads 114.5. I step off, wait a second for the scale to reset, and step back on. I always weigh in at least twice to be sure of the accuracy. Again, it reads 114.5. That’s only a half a pound lost since yesterday, but at least it’s a half a pound lost, not gained.

I put the scale back under the sink where it belongs and get dressed. I check my phone for the time and, seeing that it's 2:48 and my parents will be home soon, run out to the kitchen and pull out a plate. Opening the refrigerator, I see there is some leftover spaghetti from last night. I take that out and smear it all over my plate. I then dump the pasta on a paper towel, wrap it up, and throw it away. I set the dirty dish in the sink. Happy with my work, I go back upstairs and actually start my homework this time.

Next thing I know, I'm opening my eyes. My face is pressed against something hard and something else is poking my arms. I lift my head up to find the hard thing I was using as a makeshift pillow was actually my math book. I glance over to my clock. Jeez, it's 7:00. Last time I looked at the time it was twenty after three. I slept for almost three and a half hours. I slept through dinner. I can't believe my mom didn't wake me up to eat. Usually she makes sure I'm downstairs for dinner by quarter after five.

Maybe she thinks I already ate. Whatever it is, I don't want to risk reminding her so I guess I'll stay upstairs for the rest of the night. I close my math book even though I'm nowhere near done and put all my homework away. With the little energy I have left, I crawl into my bed and curl up in the blankets. Surrounded by the scent of fresh laundry, I close my eyes and allow sleep to engulf me once again.