Living with Ana

Chapter 2: Punishment

I take a deep breath. This time comes to often, the time that determines my happiness and determination. I pull the scale out from the closet in the bathroom. I'm alone at home, after walking back from Connor's about an hour ago. Vanessa's still out with her friends, and Mom and Dad are still working. Big shocker there.

I pee out any extra water inside of me and strip to my bra and undies. I brace myself and step on, standing there, five foot and five inches tall. My eyes are closed, and I wait a second or two until I open them and glance down, my heart racing. 123.6 pounds. That's 123.6 pounds of failure.

I look at myself in the mirror. I see my ribs are coming out to play, and my hipbones joining them. My stomach, however, doesn't want to play. It doesn't want the fun that my ribs and hips having, apparently, considering it won't budge.

I grab the flesh that makes up my disgusting stomach and want to cry. Then I observe my legs. At the mini gap between my thighs, which I want to be bigger. My collar bones stick out just enough to know that they're there. Ugh.

Why do I have to hate myself so much?

I dress, then pad to the kitchen, our golden retriever, Daisy, trailing behind me. I open the fridge, pull out some baked mac & cheese that was leftover, plop it on a plate a stick it in the microwave. I take it out, and leave the microwave door open to make the gross smell of the hundreds of cheeses embedded in the pasta waft around the kitchen. I look at the pasta, and dump half of it in the sink, then put the plate on the floor and let Daisy finish it off. That's one advantage of having a dog. It's also an advantage having parents who work a thousand hours a week.

There, I made my dinner.

Just seconds after I pick up the plate covered in Daisy's slobber, Vanessa walks through the back door. She throws her stuff on the couch and swings open the refrigerator. "Hey Lil," she says as I place the plate in the dishwasher, making sure she sees me.

"Damn, I'm starving" she complains, pulling out grilled chicken and the mac & cheese. I roll my eyes. SHE thinks that SHE'S starving after stuffing her face with food all day? Yeah I'm sure she's suffering. She eyes the open dishwasher door.

"You already ate?" She asks. "Yup," I reply evenly. "The mac & cheese is delicious." Ha-ha. She holds up the plate with the chicken to her face. "Do you think this is still good?" She questions. I pull a water out from the fridge.

"How would I know? I dont' even eat meat." She puts the plate down and shrugs, putting two pieces on her plate along with a mountain of mac & cheese. "Oh well, I'm hungry. I'm sure it's still edible." She punches in a minute and thirty seconds on the microwave and pulls out a can of a cavity-waiting-to-happen Mountain Dew.

"So how was studying with Connor?" She now asks, licking her fork. I laugh, thinking of the good time we had together, like old times. "It was pretty good. Minus the part when Luke came home and was being an ass, but nothing knew there." Vanessa snorts. "You got that right."

I flip through the glossy pages of the Seventeen magazine that was on the table from this morning, trying not to let myself be intimidated by the models. It doesn't work. I look up from the book from hell and ask, "How mad do you think Mom and Dad will be when I tell them I have detention three times next week?"

Vanessa looks at me from across the table. "What the hell did you do this time?" I roll my eyes at 'this time.' Please. I could be worse. Maybe. "Wellll, a little birdy named Connor was texting me during Spanish, then the bitch named Kayla Martin told on me. She's so immature."

Vanessa rolls her eyes this time. "Girl, she may be a bitch, but you know not to be texting during class! This is what, your fifth time getting caught?" "Only the third," I say defensively. She snorts. "Wow, ‘cause that's so much better." She shovels pasta into her mouth, like she's a never ending black hole.