The next week passed in a string of similar days.
School, work, Rachelle spouting off about her recent conquests with the gamer, chat with Bradley at night on Facebook, avoiding McKenzie and her constant stream of wedding plans, and fall asleep watching weight loss television.
"It's getting old, don't you think?" I asked Mira Wednesday evening while waiting for Bitsy to finish filling up glasses of ice water in her kitchen. Mira lifted an eyebrow in silent question. "Counting calories, I mean."
My smart phone glowed in my hand while I punched in my numbers for the day. I hadn't eaten dinner yet—on purpose, of course—and still had three hundred calories left. Another salad for me.
"It got old the first day," Mira replied.
"It was revelatory at first. Who knew pickles didn't have calories? Maybe even there was a sense of adventure in the change, but now it's just annoying. I mean seriously. We have to count everything?"
Mira held up her hands in praise. "Hallelujah, my friend."
Despite my grumblings, counting calories seemed a lot less painful than seeing the scale creep back up again, so I chose the lesser of two evils and forced myself to be honest. Okay, I'd snuck in an extra pat of butter at lunch. So maybe I only had two hundred and fifty calories left.
"Welcome to the third week of the Health and Happiness Society," Bitsy declared, handing out water. Her eyes had a subtle hint of redness to them, though it could have just been the poor light in the room. The distant sound of girls shrieking came down the back hall.
"As always, let's get started with the weigh in and get the worst part over with. I'm going to talk with you today about eating our exercise calories back. Should we or shouldn't we? Mira, you're first. Lexie, you'll be last."
Mira hopped up first wearing a bright blue muumuu with palm trees on it that I hadn't seen since we celebrated Christmas together when I was thirteen. Her face didn't seem as bloated that evening: a definite sign of progress.
By the time my turn came, Mira and one of the men were chatting quietly about the benefits of using an ab roller. "I'd fall right on my face," Mira said when Bitsy called me back.
"Lexie, you're up."
Bitsy walked just behind me down the hall, like a prison guard escorting a criminal. I felt like I'd done something wrong by the time I turned into the small bathroom, and wondered if she knew about my shameful bad day.
"Mira said the two of you had a tough beginning last week," Bitsy said, pressing her lips together in an inscrutable expression I couldn't read. "Want to tell me about it?"
Not on your life.
"Bad day, that's all," I said, sliding out of my flip-flops. I'd worn my lightest black pants and a simple t-shirt. Normally I chose my outfits based solely on how many of my love handles would show, but I didn't care about that as much at the group meetings. All I wanted was lower numbers, baby. Fashion be banned.
"Step on. Let's see if your bad day damaged your scale day."
I closed my eyes and stepped on the scale, feeling like a coward because I didn't want to see the results. Interminable seconds ticked by.
"Well?" Bitsy asked. "Aren't you going to look?"
I peeled one eye open and glanced down. 252.
Bitsy consulted the clipboard of power that she kept on the sink. "You lost two pounds this week. That's really good for week two, Lexie. Looks like your bad day didn't hurt you too much, though we'll never know, will we?"
A breath of relief escaped me. My eyes moistened just enough my vision blurred. Had I been that stressed over this weigh in? I swallowed, embarrassed at my emotion, and blinked the tears away.
"I binged," I confessed, my head bowed like a child caught with her hand in the figurative cookie jar. "I had a bad day and ate donuts and mozzarella sticks and pizza rolls."
Bitsy listened with the same intensity that she did everything, narrowed eyes, face scrunched, deep in thoughts I couldn't even fathom. I wanted her to understand I had only given up once; that I'd picked myself back up and forced myself to keep going. Her militant approval was far more important than I'd realized.
"We all binge at some point," she said with a sigh, and I saw a flicker of something in her eyes. "The important thing is that you learn from it by identifying the steps that led to it."
My forehead ruffled. "What do you mean?"
"Think back on that day. What happened? Why did you eat?"
"Because I always eat," I replied immediately. Her question didn't make any sense. Why wouldn't I eat when I was upset? What else was there to do? I thought about how Mira and I went to the gym that evening, and wondered if that had something to do with it.
"Okay," she drawled, folding her arms over the clipboard. "But what point did you reach that finally made you feel like enough. I can't handle this without food or sugar."
She stared at me so intently that for a moment I lost my train of thought, but slowly picked it back up again. "I was driving home after a bad day, I hadn't eaten because I was late for class, didn't have any money, everything went wrong, and I passed a donut shop. I ate so fast that I didn't even enjoy them," I admitted with a grimace. "Then I returned home and Mom was upset with me so I just grabbed a plate of food and hid in the basement."
Bitsy held up one hand with her fingers splayed. "First, you were hungry and hadn't eaten. Second, you were upset about your bad day, didn't know how to deal with it, so you ate something to make you feel better or forget all the bad things. Did it make you forget?"
"No."
"Third," she continued, ticking the fingers off with her other hand. "You were avoiding confrontation with your mother by hiding behind food."
I stared at her in a daze. Never in all my life had I analyzed the motivations behind what I ate. Never had I truly realized that there were reasons behind why I ate so much bad—yet scrumptious—food. H or sadness or depression or frustration all seemed easier to deal with when I had a little sugar in me. Sure, I felt good on the sugar high, but never thought to look into why I felt bad in the first place.
"I never thought of it that way," I whispered. Bitsy smirked.
"I know. That's why you're here."
"I did work out afterwards. I felt better."
"Good," she said, startled. "You transferred your focus from food to something healthy. Did it make you feel better?"
"Yes."
"And food didn't?"
"No," I whispered, eyes wide. "It didn't. I guess it . . . it never really does."
"No, it doesn't. Not when it's done for emotional reasons, anyway." Bitsy studied me for a moment. "Do you want to avoid another binge?"
I nodded desperately.
"When you get home, I want you to write down everything that happened from the moment you woke up to the moment you went to sleep that day in a column. Next to it, I want you to write what emotions you were feeling at the time. All of them. Any of them. If it came to your mind, write it down. Look back on other bad binge days you've had and can remember, and write those out. See if you notice a pattern."
The idea of revisiting dark days in my past didn't excite me, but I couldn't deny a touch of curiosity in the assignment. I thought weight loss involved lettuce, calorie restrictions, and drinking lemon water by the gallon. I never imagined the battle had so much to do with my head and heart.
"Okay. I'll do it."
"In the meantime, good job. You still lost two pounds. You've lost seven pounds in the last two weeks, which is really good." She smiled, which softened the intensity around her eyes. "Now comes the hard part: not giving up."
For those who have never tried to lose weight before, it's hard to describe the mental battle that occurs. I, personally, think weight loss and getting healthy is 80% mental, 10% physical, and 10% how much you can control the chocolate cravings.
I never appreciated the power of emotions in relation to my food consumption until I started realizing a link, which is something that many of us have to discover just as Lexie is now.
What is YOUR happy food? What do you turn to when you're the most obsessed? If we're going to be broad, I'll say that I crave bread. Almost any form. If we want to be specific? Arby's. Definitely Arby's.
Thanks again for reading! BBtYP has hovered from #26-31 this week thanks to your dedicated reading and voting for it with stars. Keep it up! You guys are the BEST!