Crazy

I eat my breakfast before going to school, though. I couldn’t imagine giving up food. I couldn’t ever imagine it. Food is the substance I live for. Then again, I think I’m going to have to give it up soon. It makes me sad

I go to school again, the next day. I feel so ugly. I feel ugly, and gross, and FAT. I feel as fat as a pregnant whale.
I don’t want to be here, which is a first. I used to always love going, even though the work was hard. I still had friends! But now, I realize that I don’t. Nope. Not anymore. I wished I did, but I just…don’t.

I go to my English class. I see my teacher, Mr. Hawthorne, teaching our class. He’s so cute. I mean, he’s EXTREMELY hot for an old guy. He’s, like, 35 or something.
I don’t talk to any of my friends. I can’t.

When I go to lunch, the thought of not eating is still lingering in my head. I want to look hot…absolutely gorgeous. I don’t want to be fat anymore. I want to be a cheerleader. I want to be popular.
After debating with myself on whether I should eat or not, I finally decide that I WILL eat.
My school orders their pizza from Pizza Hut…my favorite pizza place. I love greasy food, sorry…
I sit alone in the bathroom. I can’t see anyone. I can’t look anyone in the eyes. I feel stressed out.
Then, after I eat, I decide to do something. Something I’ve never done before, but I’m guessing a lot of cheerleaders have.
I get up, and start vomiting. I vomit in the toilet, of course – not on the floor. I let out all of my anger and sadness that I held in for so long, along with my gross, greasy pepperoni personal pan pizza from Pizza Hut.

I wipe the vomit on my face. I feel ashamed for doing this. I can’t let the teachers, the students, or anyone else, see it. I don’t want them knowing I did this.
I don’t feel crazy for doing this, don’t get me wrong. Instead, I feel normal…not in a good way, but in a bland and boring way. I feel average. I want to be normal with a twist. I want to be the original normal. Instead of being a trend follower, I want to be a trend setter. Forcing myself to throw up and everything is a normal teenage act. Well, it’s perfectly normal for the stereotypical self conscious (or just really fat) cheerleader (or just a wannabe cheerleader) to do this.

No one notices. I smile to myself in satisfaction. I smile to myself throughout the day. I’m not ashamed anymore. Maybe if I keep doing this, I will be popular after all. I won’t just be the boring, average, girl anymore. I won’t just live n the footsteps of Lilly.

I keep doing that. Binging and purging has, like, become a daily routine for me.

One day, when I go to school, I decide to talk to Princess. I get the nerve to get out of my regular habit of eating alone in the bathroom stall, and walk over to the popular table.
I see Princess. She’s wearing her ugg boots, her north face jacket, her polo shirt from Abercrombie, and a pair of jeggings. It’s a little normal, I know. It’s good to conform sometimes though, I think. You need to follow trends in order to become popular but once you’re popular, you can do whatever you want, and people will love you – unless you do something really crazy…then, I don’t know. People will ditch you, I guess.

I walk over to Princess’s table, and all the words that I’ve held in for so long come flowing out of me.
“I deserve to be a cheerleader,” I begin. “I don’t care how fat you think I am. I’ve been dieting for over a month, and I think I’m thin enough to be one of you now.”
I look around the table, only to find Ashleigh sitting there, drinking her can of diet coke, giving me the evil eye, for reasons unknown.
“Um…yeah,” Princess replies. “There’s no way, you are going to be a cheerleader. You’re still a fat ass in my mind. There’s no way that’s ever going to change.”
“Come on,” one of Princess’s clones demands her. “Just let her join our team! She IS pretty…sort of.”
“Okay…I will, but only on one condition.”
“What?” I ask, no where near sure what that condition is.
“You start starving yourself. It will help…A LOT!”
I’m sure she’s just as confused and shocked by what came out of her mouth as I am.

For the first time, I hold in my hunger. I can’t let myself eat anything. The only way to become popular is to conform. Then, we set the trends after we become popular.
“Do you want to order any pizza?” my mom asks me, when I come home for dinner later that day.
“No thank you, Mom,” I tell her, in a sweet little girl voice.
“You sure? Not even pizza hut, your favorite?”
I shake my head.

Later, as I’m in my room, dancing to some Ke$ha to try and help me lose some weight, I hear my mom call me down again.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Food!” she says. “I know you don’t feel like pizza today, but I’ve made you some mac and cheese. Your other favorite!”
“Yeah…when I was seven.”
Just that simple sentence brought back so many memories of Dad, Mom, Lilly and I as a whole family. One big perfect family.
I start crying.
“Are you hungry at all?” she asks in a nosy little tone of voice.
“NO!” I yell as the tears keep escaping my eyes.

I go to school the next day, in a black and white top from American Eagle, with ripped skinny jeans from Hollister, and black converse. I wanted to look rock-ish and original today. I wanted to look a little rebellious for some reason. I think that reason was to disobey the head cheerleader’s wishes of me dressing just like her with a north face, and a pair of uggs.
I go to school, and I’m so excited in a way. Although, I’m angry with Princess, I’m still happy I’m on the team.
I would have never been on it if it wasn’t for Princess’s little friend. I forget her name. Is it Kelly? I think it is. Anyway, she’s nice.
I go to school, in hopes of being the most popular girl.