CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I was shocked when my mother suggested that we do something fun after she picked me up from school. She wanted to go shopping together, and maybe get our nails done, never really the kind of thing she and I would do.
As we sat quietly in the car, I looked out the window, wondering where we were going. A light snow was falling from the sky which made me happy. The snowflakes melted on the car window, and turned into raindrops.
Mom stopped the car in the middle of a large plaza I'd never been to. It was filled with restaurants, salons, clothes stores, supermarkets. Basically everything. We'd parked in front of Bella Tress Hair Salon.
"So, here's my plan." My mother began as we approached the shiny black doors of the small building. "We get our hair done, maybe our nails, ride over to the mall and you can pick out whatever you want. Sound good?"
"Mom," I stopped her. "why are we doing this?"
Her thin eyebrows scrunched together. "Because we deserve a little spa day." She smiled, walking in front of me. I stood there for a moment, then followed her into the salon. It smelled like hairspray and shampoo. I hadn't been to a hair salon in two years, since I was thirteen.
"Four o'clock appointment for Sue?" The tall, slim lady behind the counter flipped through a large binder on the desk before her. She had the both of us seated next to each other within a few minutes, and covered with barber drapes.
"Any styles you have in mind?" A young woman said with a strong English accent, running her fingers through my hair.
"Not really. Just a trim, I guess." I told her, shrugging at the mirror in front of me.
"How about we give it some layers and then run a flat iron through?" She suggested.
I nodded and she lead me over to the sink area. My head rested in the groove and warm water soaked my hair. After being shampooed, it was wrapped in a purple towel. The barber, who I later learned was named Shannon, began cutting my hair. I was a little uneasy at the amount that was falling on to the floor, but tried to ignore it. My eyes closed as strands started to fall over the front of my face.
Shannon plugged in the flat iron and finished snipping the last few pieces. I could feel the warmth of my orange hair resting in my shoulder as it went from wavy to perfectly straight.
"What do you think?" She wondered with a hopeful look on her face.
I moved it around a bit, seeing what it would look like if I slid my hands through it. It was perfect. "I love it." I told her, and I did. She had trimmed my bangs shorter, leaving them to softly brush my eyelids, and a few inches had been cut off the bottom. I looked different.
Shannon giggled, and showed me what the back of my head looked like with a hand mirror. Still, it was perfect. "I'm glad you like it."
"Thanks so much!" I stood from the chair and unbuttoned the drape from around my neck. My mother was just finishing up. The long curls she used to have were about five inches shorter. My mouth dropped open. "It's so short!" I exclaimed as she stood.
"Not too short I hope." She laughed. "But look at you, Melanie! You're beautiful!"
I gave a half smile. I most certainly am not. I thought to myself without letting my grin falter. We walked over to the front desk and my mother handed the lady her credit card. With one swipe and a signature, we were leaving.
For the rest of the afternoon, we shopped for groceries because I'd decided not to get my nails done. We were headed to JCPenny®, which was quite the drive from where I lived.
I cringed at the various posters along the store windows. Models with perfect skin, the perfect size. Why couldn't I look like that? Immediately I was interrupted from my thoughts by my mother, pulling on my sleeve. She wanted me to look at a rack of nice shirts. There were lots with colors I liked, and designs I appealed to, but... there was one problem. They were all too small for my fat body.
Of course, mom made me try a few of them on, all of which I put back. I was just about to leave the changing room until my mother's arm reached in, giving me one last shirt to put on. It was black with long sleeves. On the front was a dark pink heart with deep green vines wrapping around it. I slipped it over my head and then smoothed it over my stomach. It was very loose, which I liked and the sleeves were longer than my arms. It was obviously not my size. Too big. But I bought it anyway.
I didn't really remember much from the ride home, mainly because I fell asleep. My mother was playing Christmas music and singing along. The song, Silent Night was coming out of the speakers when I dozed off.
I was woken up by the slam of a car door, and began grabbing my bag of clothes. I'd ended up buying a pair of grey leggings to go with the shirt.
My room was rather cold when I stepped in, causing me to rub my arms. The book I had been reading the night before, was still placed face-down, opened on my desk and all the curtains were closed, blocking out the light from my windows.
An uneventful hour had passed when my father came home. I was sitting in the kitchen as he set a large brown paper bag down on the table beside me. "I brought dinner." He said, removing his winter jacket from his shoulders.
I pretended to be happy, hoping it would be a salad or something. I was wrong. Terribly wrong. Resting inside the paper bag was a large cardboard bucket of fried chicken. My father pulled it out and set it in front of me.
"Well? Dig in!" He exclaimed, reaching his hand into the bucket.
I went with the usual excuse, "I'm not really hungry." expecting it to work, but this time, the outcome was different.
"You really should eat, Melanie. You've been out all day." He grabbed me a paper plate from inside the bag and set a piece of the chicken on to it.
"I don't feel like it right now." I stood up, attempting to leave.
"Sit down, right now." My father's voice was stern, practically scaring me back into my seat. He glanced down at the food on my plate as if signaling me to shove it in my mouth. I stayed absolutely still, not moving a muscle. I felt like pray, desperately hiding from a predator.
"I'm not hungry." I crossed my arms.
"Eat, Melanie."
"No."
He leaned toward me, looking me right in the eyes. "I am not playing games with you, eat this food right now!"
"No." I said again, still not moving.
"You can't go on like this. You're going to get--"
"He told you, didn't he?" I cut my father off. He knew what I meant. Mark must have told them that I had a problem. That I needed help. It was all starting to make sense. My mother didn't take me out just to spend time with me. She wanted to get me a makeover so maybe I'd like myself better. This was all part of their plan, and I was just figuring it out.
"You need help. You need to eat." He said, looking concerned and angry at the same time.
"I can't! It'll ruin everything!" I was yelling at him, tears beginning to dampen my eyes. I stood up yet again and set off to my bedroom. I only managed to get into the hallway, because my father grabbed my arm. Tears now sliding down my cheeks, I yelled and threw myself to the floor, doing anything to keep that disgusting, greasy, food from entering my body.
"Stop!" He was shouting. "Please stop!" He pulled me to my feet and called for my mother, who came running down the stairs.
Eventually I calmed myself, and escaped to my room. I locked the door behind me, sobbing as I slid to the floor. Who was I? I had never done such nonsense, never acted so foolishly. There was something inside me that I could no longer control. The beginning stages of anorexia.
