Une Fleure Fanée

Week 10 Part 5 (Thursday)

    I search for my Venlafaxine pills in the medicine cabinet. I find my Cymbalta, my Fluoxetine, and finally a Venlafaxine. I shove it down my throat. It may help today. It's been getting weaker, but maybe it will help.

     I still look fat in it though, despite all the medication I take. You look so fat in the lace leotard, Lilliana. I quickly dash on enough foundation and concealer to cover up the scars on my wrist and elbow crease before I put on a pair of lavender sweats that are appropriate to wear in public. I put my hair in a bun and mentally prepare myself for today.

     I try not to cry as I pop the rest of my pills into my mouth and do my makeup. You still look ugly, Lilliana. Even with the sweats, you're just covering up your ugliness. God, I feel like a drug dealer, taking a bunch of pills. But they, supposedly, manage my emotions, not give me a high that will make the inpatient room go into lockdown for three hours because they're trying to bash everybody's heads because we're apparently mannequins.

     Thoughts of inpatient fill my mind as I make my way to the main room. 

     "Lilly, how much do you want to bet Ms. Abby will walk out of rehearsal today?" Mom jokingly asks.

     "She's unpredictable, Mom. Who knows?" I groan sleepily.

     "Wake up, sleepyhead. You have to dance in an hour, so let's get in the car. Pressley and Brady are waiting for us in the lobby," Mom tells me.

      I hate this leotard. It feels so wrong to wear it. I'm not peeling off these sweats until the last second. I don't want anybody to see my body until they absolutely have to, and I'm ready to brace the comments.

     I grab a chocolate Ensure, and I pretend to chug it in the elevator going down. Of course, I see Pressley and Brady's disappointed faces when they hear the density of the liquid falling into the trash can as we leave the lobby.

     "Lilly, your body is going to feel horrible if it doesn't get any food. Your mom is going to notice," Brady whispers as Mom blares the music a little too loud.

     "Brady, you aren't even wearing a leotard. I'm wearing it under this, and I hate the way it looks. The horrible feeling will be worth it. And plus, Mom hasn't noticed 19.6 pounds go away. What makes you think she'll notice now?" I mutter, pulling my knees up to my chest.

     The pain is good, Lilliana. It means that you are losing weight. Which is what is going to make you look good in the leotard.

***brady***

     She's wearing a leotard today? I'm anxious to see how skinny she actually looks. But right now, she looks like she's about to cry. Ms. Stacey blaring the music actually will help. She leans on Pressley and begins to shake. I don't think she wants to wear the leotard. Ms. Stacey finally looks in the rearview mirror and notices Lilly.

     And to my surprise and a small amount of disgust, "Lilly, stop bothering Pressley and wake up for goodness sake. You can't be tired for dance class, or else Ms. Abby is going to yell at you!"

     I see poor Lilly immediately sit up from Pressley's shoulder and put on a more awake face. She looks down, a little bit embarrassed. I thought Ms. Stacey was a therapist. Can't she see that something is wrong with her daughter?

***lilly***

     I don't talk to anybody for the rest of the car ride. I don't want Mom to scold me anymore, or for something to slip. I ignore everybody and go straight to stretching. I admit, it is a bit rude, but I'm not feeling like having any social interaction. I notice Mom go straight into the dancer's den, along with the other moms, and we all clammer around the door to hear what is going on.