"Miranda! Gordo!" Lizzie called cheerfully. She ran over to greet her
friends. "What's up, guys?"
Miranda and Gordo looked at each other, then back at Lizzie. "You sure seem to be in a better mood," Miranda curiously observed. "What's up with the sudden change of heart?"
Lizzie shrugged. "Oh... nothing. Let's just say I've done some soul- searching."
"Soul searching?"
Lizzie nodded. The events of the night before beamed in the back of her mind. Her actions were desperate, and still scared her a bit. But she could ignore all that to accept the empowerment it gave her. She was not as powerless as she thought she was. When there wasn't a way to solve her problem, she made a way. That was the Lizzie she once was; she would do whatever it took to get all that back.
Miranda and Gordo were watching Lizzie expectantly, waiting to hear more about this "soul searching." For a fleeting moment, Lizzie wanted to tell them everything. She wanted to spill every detail of losing and finding herself over and over again, and how she finally pulled herself back to reality. Ration stepped in, however, and she kept her mouth shut. She knew they wouldn't understand. How could anyone understand how easy it is to forget who you are?
She grinned and shrugged innocently. "So what have you guys been up to lately?" she asked, conveniently changing the subject to something she was genuinely interested in. She was out of the loop, and she needed to work towards getting back in it. She listened as Miranda proceeded to tell her about the Sophmore friends she had made, and how they were considering letting her be in their band. Her attention was deterred, however, when she heard a familiar laugh nearby.
She turned and spotted Ethan, walking with a group of friends that were moving towards her. She felt sweat accumulate on the back of her neck. She tensed up. She wasn't ready for him. She wasn't ready to face him yet. Ethan was the first one to recognize she wasn't good enough for him, and it caused a pain in her stomach. She needed more time to be herself again, to be better than herself, before she could face Ethan.
"Lizzie!" said Ethan as if he hadn't seen Lizzie in years. He stood there grinning like a goofus for a moment, when it occured to him why they hadn't spoken in awhile. Without noticing it, he slapped his forehead when he remembered that she hadn't been very happy about their break-up. "Uh.... what's up?"
Lizzie froze. She stupidly nodded her head and tried not to let her fake smile fade.
"Just hanging out," Miranda answered for her, noticing Lizzie's strange behavior.
"Hanging out is good." Ethan stood there, uncomfortable and (unsurprisingly) at a loss of words. "Yeah, I've always liked hanging out." Another pause. "Nice, uh, pants, Lizzie." Pause. "Baggy is really in right now... So is hanging out." Unbearable pause. "So.... I'm gonna go now."
Lizzie nodded nervously, her insecure smile still plastered to her face as he edged away.
"Lizzie?" said Miranda. "What was that about? Are you okay?"
But Lizzie wasn't listening. Miranda's concerns were drowned out by the questions pounding in her brain. *Baggy is in? Was that a fat joke? Did his friends dare him to come over here? Was that a fat joke?* Irrational thoughts buzzed through her brain, even as her friends spoke to her and walked her to class.
* * * *
Her enthusiasm and adrenaline were worn down by the time she got home that afternoon. She felt herself slipping into the desire to settle in front of the tube with some munchies to cheer herself up. But she stopped herself. That wasn't the way she was going to do things anymore. She ran to the bathroom again, and made herself throw up. That was the feeling she wanted. She needed that power to keep her emotions up.
She went to her bedroom and stood in front of her mirror, examining the contours of her body. She pinched pieces of flesh and stretched them out, thinking with an almost crazed ambition, *I can make that go away* She went to the bathroom and gagged herself again, though she had emptied much of her stomach the first time. She thought of something else.
She went into the garage, where the air was muggy and full of dust. She shoved aside boxes and lawn gnome paints to reveal the Treadmill her mother had bought a few years ago; it, like much of the rest of the garage's contents, was covered in a thick layer of dust. She brushed it off a bit and messed around with the settings until she felt like she could work it properly.
She stepped onto the Treadmill, a little uncertain at first, and started it up. She felt comfortable, and liked the feeling of putting her leg muscles to work. She increased the speed. It was extremely hot in the un- airconditioned garage, and sweat collected in Lizzie's hair and started soaking through her t-shirt. She didn't mind the heat; it made her feel like she was working even harder. Sweating, like throwing up, gave Lizzie the sensation she was losing excess baggage. The feeling gave her a rush of adrenaline, and she thrived on it. She refused to get off the machine for several hours, even when her legs started to hurt and the dusty air was beginning to make her feel dizzy.
After about two hours of pounding her feet on the exercise machine, her surroundings grew faint. She felt dreamy, like she was losing the ability to think straight. This didn't bother her, though; whenever her mind was alert, all she could seem to focus on was her flawes. She increased the speed again, and drove her mind deeper into the exercise. She wanted to focus on nothing else but working herself; she wanted to keep that rush alive in her.
The room began to spin, and her legs felt like jelly. Her sweaty palms gripped the handlebars, but her mind had no perception of up or down or any movement at all. She tripped over her self and fell hard. She crashed into several boxes and hit her head against the edge of the continually moving machine.
For a moment, she thought, she was going to blackout. She laid their for a moment, with the dust of the shifted boxes drifting down to her. She slowly eased herself up, though the world was still spinning a bit, and turned off the Treadmill. It took her a moment to regain her thought. "It's okay," she said softly to herself. "I just need to take a break. I can't do it all at once."
She laid back down on the floor and started doing crunches. She felt that same rush as she tightly contracted the muscles of her stomach, which had come to be one of her least favorite body parts. Her mind still couldn't lock in to logical trains of thought. Instead she just focused on her new- found way to make the pain go away.
Miranda and Gordo looked at each other, then back at Lizzie. "You sure seem to be in a better mood," Miranda curiously observed. "What's up with the sudden change of heart?"
Lizzie shrugged. "Oh... nothing. Let's just say I've done some soul- searching."
"Soul searching?"
Lizzie nodded. The events of the night before beamed in the back of her mind. Her actions were desperate, and still scared her a bit. But she could ignore all that to accept the empowerment it gave her. She was not as powerless as she thought she was. When there wasn't a way to solve her problem, she made a way. That was the Lizzie she once was; she would do whatever it took to get all that back.
Miranda and Gordo were watching Lizzie expectantly, waiting to hear more about this "soul searching." For a fleeting moment, Lizzie wanted to tell them everything. She wanted to spill every detail of losing and finding herself over and over again, and how she finally pulled herself back to reality. Ration stepped in, however, and she kept her mouth shut. She knew they wouldn't understand. How could anyone understand how easy it is to forget who you are?
She grinned and shrugged innocently. "So what have you guys been up to lately?" she asked, conveniently changing the subject to something she was genuinely interested in. She was out of the loop, and she needed to work towards getting back in it. She listened as Miranda proceeded to tell her about the Sophmore friends she had made, and how they were considering letting her be in their band. Her attention was deterred, however, when she heard a familiar laugh nearby.
She turned and spotted Ethan, walking with a group of friends that were moving towards her. She felt sweat accumulate on the back of her neck. She tensed up. She wasn't ready for him. She wasn't ready to face him yet. Ethan was the first one to recognize she wasn't good enough for him, and it caused a pain in her stomach. She needed more time to be herself again, to be better than herself, before she could face Ethan.
"Lizzie!" said Ethan as if he hadn't seen Lizzie in years. He stood there grinning like a goofus for a moment, when it occured to him why they hadn't spoken in awhile. Without noticing it, he slapped his forehead when he remembered that she hadn't been very happy about their break-up. "Uh.... what's up?"
Lizzie froze. She stupidly nodded her head and tried not to let her fake smile fade.
"Just hanging out," Miranda answered for her, noticing Lizzie's strange behavior.
"Hanging out is good." Ethan stood there, uncomfortable and (unsurprisingly) at a loss of words. "Yeah, I've always liked hanging out." Another pause. "Nice, uh, pants, Lizzie." Pause. "Baggy is really in right now... So is hanging out." Unbearable pause. "So.... I'm gonna go now."
Lizzie nodded nervously, her insecure smile still plastered to her face as he edged away.
"Lizzie?" said Miranda. "What was that about? Are you okay?"
But Lizzie wasn't listening. Miranda's concerns were drowned out by the questions pounding in her brain. *Baggy is in? Was that a fat joke? Did his friends dare him to come over here? Was that a fat joke?* Irrational thoughts buzzed through her brain, even as her friends spoke to her and walked her to class.
* * * *
Her enthusiasm and adrenaline were worn down by the time she got home that afternoon. She felt herself slipping into the desire to settle in front of the tube with some munchies to cheer herself up. But she stopped herself. That wasn't the way she was going to do things anymore. She ran to the bathroom again, and made herself throw up. That was the feeling she wanted. She needed that power to keep her emotions up.
She went to her bedroom and stood in front of her mirror, examining the contours of her body. She pinched pieces of flesh and stretched them out, thinking with an almost crazed ambition, *I can make that go away* She went to the bathroom and gagged herself again, though she had emptied much of her stomach the first time. She thought of something else.
She went into the garage, where the air was muggy and full of dust. She shoved aside boxes and lawn gnome paints to reveal the Treadmill her mother had bought a few years ago; it, like much of the rest of the garage's contents, was covered in a thick layer of dust. She brushed it off a bit and messed around with the settings until she felt like she could work it properly.
She stepped onto the Treadmill, a little uncertain at first, and started it up. She felt comfortable, and liked the feeling of putting her leg muscles to work. She increased the speed. It was extremely hot in the un- airconditioned garage, and sweat collected in Lizzie's hair and started soaking through her t-shirt. She didn't mind the heat; it made her feel like she was working even harder. Sweating, like throwing up, gave Lizzie the sensation she was losing excess baggage. The feeling gave her a rush of adrenaline, and she thrived on it. She refused to get off the machine for several hours, even when her legs started to hurt and the dusty air was beginning to make her feel dizzy.
After about two hours of pounding her feet on the exercise machine, her surroundings grew faint. She felt dreamy, like she was losing the ability to think straight. This didn't bother her, though; whenever her mind was alert, all she could seem to focus on was her flawes. She increased the speed again, and drove her mind deeper into the exercise. She wanted to focus on nothing else but working herself; she wanted to keep that rush alive in her.
The room began to spin, and her legs felt like jelly. Her sweaty palms gripped the handlebars, but her mind had no perception of up or down or any movement at all. She tripped over her self and fell hard. She crashed into several boxes and hit her head against the edge of the continually moving machine.
For a moment, she thought, she was going to blackout. She laid their for a moment, with the dust of the shifted boxes drifting down to her. She slowly eased herself up, though the world was still spinning a bit, and turned off the Treadmill. It took her a moment to regain her thought. "It's okay," she said softly to herself. "I just need to take a break. I can't do it all at once."
She laid back down on the floor and started doing crunches. She felt that same rush as she tightly contracted the muscles of her stomach, which had come to be one of her least favorite body parts. Her mind still couldn't lock in to logical trains of thought. Instead she just focused on her new- found way to make the pain go away.