I stared blankly at the television screen. It was a paid television program. They were trying to get me to buy a grill that burns more fat. I pushed the button on the remote, and the channel flipped up one, more paid programing. I sighed outloud, and threw the remote down on the sofa. I stood up, and rubbed my stomach. My abs were sore, not used to doing so many sit-ups yet.
I took a step towards my room, hesitant to go to bed. I didn't want to go to bed. I knew I had to though. The sound of my feet hitting the floor flooded my ears, as they always did when I walked down my hallway. I slowly opened my door, and stepped into my room. I flipped my light switch, and squinted my eyes at the bright light from the overhead bulb. I looked at my bed, longing for some decent sleep, but knowing I wasn't going to get any.
I sat down on my bed, and slowly laid on my back. I cringed, as it hurt to lay down. I closed my eyes tightly, and tried to think of anything but fat and food. All I could picture was the fat on my body, and how at this very moment it was growing. I quickly opened my eyes, getting rid of the picture. I looked around the room, my eyes stopping on my clock. 5:30 a.m.
My eyes slowly drooped closed again. This time all I could think of was what I was going to eat that day, and how I had to excercise it all off. Then, I thought of the rehearsals and studio recordings we were going to have that would keep my mind off eating.
The next thing I knew, my eyes were opening again. I looked at my clock. 7:30 a.m. I sat up and turned so my legs were hanging off the bed. I placed my elbows on my knees, and my head in my hands. Two hours of valuable time I wasted, sleeping. I could have been running, doing sit-ups, burning fat.
I stood up, and felt the floor under me start to spin. I fell back to the bed, and put my head in my hands until the spinning went away. I stood up again, and went to my dresser to find some jeans to put on. I pulled the second drawer open, and pulled out my jeans. I pulled down my sweatpants, and then pulled on my jeans. I took a shirt from atop my dresser and slipped it over my head.
I walked slowly from my room, to the kitchen, where my mom was sitting, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. I watched her silently for a few minutes. Her frame was so petite, she looked so helpless. I dropped my head, and when I looked back up at her, she was staring at me.
"Taylor, did you get sick last night?" She asked. I gave her a confused look. "I went into the bathroom last night, to use the toilet, and there was puke in it....along with blood. It was after you haad taken a bath, so I'm assuming it was from you. Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah," I shook my head, "I just, yeah, I got a little sick last night. And I don't think that was blood...I think it was the red kool-aid I had." I gave her a weak smile. She smiled back at me and then went back to reading her newspaper. I let out a silent sigh of relief, thanking God she believed me. I didn't want her or my father to find out again. They'd just send me away like they did last time.
"I'm gonna go for a walk, mom..." I turned out of the kitchen and went to the foyer. I picked up my shoes, and carried them out the front door, where I sat on my front porch on a bench we had, and put them on.
I stood up and walked down the steps, looking down as I walked. I didn't feel worthy enough to face the world, or anybody in it. The voice inside me, told me that I wasn't good enough, that I needed to walk until I wasn't fat. I believed it. It was right. I was too fat, and unworthy to talk to anyone in this world. So imperfect.
