Page 44 of Enough
“Yeah, me too. Why did I do that?”
“They were pity fries,” I point to my left butt cheek as I explain, “This entire cheek is made up of all the pity fries I’ve eaten. This thigh is pity ice cream.”
We head directly up the stairs and change into our comfy PJs. It’s only ten thirty, and before I know it we’re both dozing on the couch.
“We’re pathetic,” she groans.
I giggle as I glance over to her. We look like we’ve been through a war. “I feel like shit,” I tell her. “I hate the way my body feels right now.”
“Me too. Why do we do this to ourselves? We should never have stopped for those fries.”
“I know. But, do you want to hear something really, really bad?”
“Hmm?”
“Even though I feel like crap from the fries, do you know what my mind is telling me will make me feel better?”
“Sex?” Gwen questions.
“Well, yeah, that would be nice, but no. That’s not it. Think of something really, really bad. Something that would make the least sense for how awful I feel.”
Gwen shrugs and frowns to show she has no clue.
“I feel like having that chocolate ice cream in the freezer. You know the one with the brownie pieces in it?”
Gwen sits up straighter. “Is there enough left for both of us?” I laugh and she falls back into the couch. “No! We’re not gonna do it!” she stammers while shaking her head. “We need to stop this. Do you know how I felt tonight in that dress? Fat and fugly. I’m tired of feeling fat. I’m tired of feeling likeeveryone around me is better, or prettier, or more deserving.”
“Do you know why I wore the black?” I ask. “Because it helps me disappear. For the last few years I’ve trained myself to allow food to fill a void I have inside.”
“We need to get out of this rut!” She stands and grabs my hand. “Come with me.” She flips on the kitchen light and pulls the garbage can over to the fridge. “We’re going to get rid of all the crap in this house. Tomorrow we start eating better!”
“Yes!” I shout. “And working out!”
“Yes!” she shrieks back to me, pointing at the idea as if it’s another person in the room. “We’ll do it together!”
“We’ll support each other.”
“Just like we always have!”
Gwen and I start throwing away chips and cookies and even the ice cream from the freezer.
“We need to do this for us,” I add.
“Not because we want to attract a man or because we think it will make us more deserving…” she responds. “Because I’ve tried that and I always fail when I do it for someone else. We have to do it so that we can be happy with who we are.”
We both agree and take the trash out together. We spend the rest of the night planning meals and exercise routines. It feels good to move forward. Not for anything or anyone, just for me.
ONE WEEK OF walking on the treadmill, no sugar, and lots of protein, and I start to feel better. Then it all gets flushed down the toilet the night the kids come home from dinner with Mike.
The door opens and slams shut. I hear them whispering and mumbling in the hall.
“Shhh…” Marlow hushes loudly.
“You shhh. You’re the one who’s yelling.”
I push myself away from the kitchen table and my books to greet them by the door. “Shhh about what?” I ask as I take their backpacks and plant a small kiss on the top of Marlow’s head.
“Marlow said I shouldn’t tell you because Dad told us not to, but I think you’d want to know.”
