Good Enough

Mia - Keeping Records

The smell of macaroni casserole travels from the kitchen up and into my bedroom. I roll up off my bed and close the door, wanting desperately to keep the smell out there and the absence of food in here.

Back on my bed I take out my notebook. It's almost full.

I start a new page. Saturday - March 14.

I bite on the edge of my pen before I start writing. I fill in exactly what I ate, exactly how many calories, and exactly how many I burned while running.

It's rhythmic, almost. Therapeutic, even. Filling out the straight facts, without any lies from people who don't get it interfering.

Here's the thing about society: it'll always tell you what's wrong and what's not. Except how can it when it doesn't know all your reasoning behind things. Example: you're a slut if you sleep around. Reason: you sleep around so that you have a warm bed that night, and you just have to leave in morning. Stealing is bad. But you steal so your kids have food for the week.

Everything happens for a reason. Me not eating? Sure. It's "wrong". But is it really? I don't think so. You do what you have to do to feel good about yourself.

"Me-Me! Dinner's ready!"

I quickly close my notebook and sit up in my bed. "Uh, I'm not really hungry."

I'm not. I'm not.

Zoe pushes open the door, her little face poking into my room. She tilts her head in confusion at me.

"You're not hungry again? Are you getting sick?"

I shake my head no and try my hardest to give her a small smile. "No no. I'm fine. I'm just...not hungry."

Leave it alone Zoe, I think. I don't need Mom worrying about-

"Mom! I think Mia's sick!" Zoe yells. I close my eyes and stifle a groan. Great. Fantastic. Just amazing. Now I have to deal with my mom.

When I open my eyes, my mom materialized in the door, looking me up and down, trying to decide whether I'm sick or not.

"Are you feeling okay honey?"

"Yup. Fine."

"Are you sure? Then why aren't you hungry?"

"I dunno. I'm just not."

"I feel like you're never hungry anymore Mia. Is something wrong? Is it the move? The divorce?"

"No Mom. I'm fine. I think it's because I've been getting into more exercise. I think I've lost my appetite a little." So why can't you?

Mom nods from the door way, look at me up and down once more before nodding again.

"Okay. But that's means you have to eat breakfast tomorrow, okay?"

"Mhm."

Right. I'll totally do that.

"Come on Zoe," she says, ruffling the blonde curls. I like her curly hair. It's much prettier than my stick straight dirty blonde hair.

Mom and Zoe exit my room and make their way down the stairs to eat macaroni and potatoes, and probably some friend chicken too. I shudder, and crack my notebook open again.

Dear Journal,
No breakfast. Had some crackers at like 6?? But I met this guy while running. He seemed pretty nice, even though he claims he does almost everything at the school. I'm not looking forward to Monday. Especially now that that guy asked me to try track. I don't know though. I mean, more running isn't bad. It's good, even. Maybe I'll give it a shot.

Also: there's no way in hell I was gonna be eating dinner tonight. If you can smell the grease then it's NOT a good sign.

- Mia B.

I close my notebook again and put it on my desk. I have so many things left to unpack. I sigh before rolling my sleeves up.

Might as well get started.