Perfectly Thin Read online

  PERFECTLY THIN

  Copyright © 2020 Margaret McHeyzer

  All rights reserved.

  This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be stored or reproduced by any process without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

  email: [email protected]

  This book is hard to read, but it’s been even harder to write. As I started on this journey of Jane’s life, I knew so many parts of her life because they were the same as mine. And most likely, yours too.

  Letters bond together to make words, and words gravitate toward each other to make sentences. Sentences can either harm or inspire.

  For me personally there’s no other way but to inspire.

  I wish I had been shown more kindness growing up, but I’ve learned to embrace my own beauty and be delightfully happy with myself.

  I hope you’ve found that for yourself, too.

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Letters to you from readers

  Acknowledgements

  Preview: Echoes of You

  Preview: Addiction

  Preview: Ugly

  Also by Margaret McHeyzer

  “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more we can do for Jane. We’ve got her stabilized, but it’s only a matter of time before her organs start shutting down.” Mom and Dad cry into their hands as I lay on the bed watching them receive this news from the doctor.

  If I can lift my arm, I can burn two calories. I try to muster all my strength to move, but I have none. If I can turn on my side, I can burn five calories. If I can, I’ll rip this stupid feeding tube out. I know they’ve put crumbs in the tube. I saw them. I want to get up and start doing star jumps. I have to. I’m so fat. I’m ginormous.

  “Jane, you have to save yourself. You’re going to die if you don’t,” Mom begs as she drags a chair over so she can sit beside me. Tears are streaming down Mom’s face, her eyes are rimmed by dark circles, and she’s talking to me like I’m on my death bed.

  “Why am I here, Momma?” I ask, but my voice sounds weak and frail.

  “Because you need help.”

  “I don’t understand. I almost look like everyone else. If I could lose a bit more weight, I’d be perfect.”

  “No, you can’t lose any more,” Dad says. He sits on the bed, and reaches out to take my hand in his, but pulls back. “I can’t touch you. I’m afraid I’ll break your bones.”

  I try to speak again, but I have no energy. If I can just lift my arms, I can burn more calories and lose more weight. I need to get skinny. I need to be perfect. I just have to lose a little more. Another five pounds, and I’ll look like everyone else. Like all the other girls. I need to be thin. I hate how I look. I hate how fat I am. I’m so fat I’m disgusting. No one will ever love me being this fat. No one will ever care for me if I’m fat. I have to be skinny.

  “Jane, can you hear us?” Dad’s voice spikes with worry. I slowly turn my head to look at him, and run my tongue against my dry, bottom lip as I blink. “Phew.” Dad clutches at his chest, and let’s out a long sigh.

  “You’re going to die,” Mom says, her voice flat as if she’s ready to quit. She stares at me, but her eyes are glassy and her shoulders have slumped forward. “You’re going to die, Jane,” she says again, this time in a slower, drawn-out breath.

  “I just need to lose some more weight so I can look like everyone else,” I say to her. But my body is riddled with hurt, pain coursing through me. Exhaustion is overtaking everything inside me.

  “The only thing you’ll be losing is your life.”

  I’m fat, like morbidly obese. So fat if I stood beside an elephant, you’d be hard-pressed to tell the difference between the two. I close my eyes, and fall asleep. I have no energy to argue with my parents, no matter how wrong they are, or how right I am.

  “Hi, Jane? I’m Leo and I’ll be your nurse today.” A young guy with short blond hair and a very tanned body comes into my room. “How are you?”

  I blink at him trying to gather my energy to talk to him. “You’re a guy,” I say.

  “No shit, Sherlock,” he chuckles. “Yes, I’m a guy. And, I’m a nurse too.”

  “You can’t talk to me like that,” I snap, but my voice is soft and weak.

  “I can, because guess what? You’re gonna die anyway so it doesn’t matter what I say to you,” he says casually.

  Did he just say that to me? “You can’t talk to me like that!” I say again, trying to get angry, but I have no energy to force the anger into my voice. “Anyway, why are you a nurse? And be nicer to me.”

  He shakes his head like he’s tolerating me. “Because I love helping people. And you’re people, so I want to help.” He shows me a genuine smile which confuses me. Does he hate me, or is it something else? I don’t know. “How are you feeling?” He walks over to stand beside me, and I slowly turn my head to look at him.

  “I’m tired.” He nods his head, and looks down the bed at me. “Can you take this out? I’m not hungry.” I indicate to the feeding tube.

  “No can do. Because if I take that out, then I’ll get in trouble. And if I get in trouble, then I’ll get fired. And I have too many surfboards to live on the street.”

  That explains the dark tan. “You surf?” I ask.

  “Yes, ma’am I do. I love surfing. Every opportunity I get, I’m out there on the waves. Best free therapy you can get.” He smiles, and I can’t help but draw my chapped lips up into a smile too.

  “I’d love to learn how to surf.”

  “Yeah? Well, how about this: you get better, and I’ll take you out and teach you.”

  “I’m way too fat. I’d break the board. I can’t surf.”

  Leo’s brows shoot up, and he nods his head. “Is that what you’re telling yourself?”

  What? What does he mean? Can’t he see how fat and disgusting I am? What’s wrong with him. “I’m, like, so fat.”

  “Huh,” he huffs as he heads toward the door. “What a shame.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, suddenly involved in this conversation, and intrigued, but still so tired even though I had a sleep.

  “Your mind is going to be the end of you.” He lifts his hand to rest over his heart, and winces in pain. “What a shame.” He walks out of my room, and doesn’t turn once to look at me.

  My mind isn’t going to be the end of me. No way. Nope. I’m just too fat, and I need to lose weight. Once I lose weight, everyt
hing will be better. Everything will work out. I have to get this stupid feeding tube out, and go for a run. I’m fine. I’m so fine. There’s nothing wrong with me.

  Except, right now, I’m really tired.

  Grabbing my food tray, I head to the back of the cafeteria where Emma and Presley are already waiting for me.

  “Boom, boom, boom. I didn’t know the school taught elephants,” Jakayla, one of the sophomore girls and India’s younger sister, snickers as I walk past. I shoot her a dirty look and roll my eyes.

  Walking over to the table I notice Emma and Presley are both talking, as I slump beside Emma. “You okay?” Emma asks.

  “Am I really fat?” I look down at my thighs, and punch the top of them making them jiggle. “I’ve worked so hard to drop twenty pounds, but obviously, it’s not enough.”

  “Dude, you can’t lose too much more. If you do, there’ll be nothing left of you.” Emma looks at Presley and narrows her eyes.

  “Why, what happened, Jane?” Presley asks.

  “Nothing, don’t worry about it.” I look at my food, and push it away. But my stomach growls with hunger. Ugh, I hate being fat. I wish I was skinnier.

  “What happened?” Presley won’t let it drop.

  “Nothing.” I shrug, but look over my shoulder to that sophomore cow. She’s talking to her friends, and has no idea how much her words have cut me.

  “What did that little bitch say to you?” Presley asks and I see she’s staring at Jakayla now.

  “You know I don’t like it when you call females bitches. It’s degrading.”

  “Fine.” Presley puts her fork down. “Then what did that fucker say to you?” Presley’s fierceness grows, and I can tell just by the way she’s squared her shoulders, that she’s ready to go over there and punch Jakayla.

  “Presley.” I hold my hand up, stopping her. “She isn’t very nice. But she’s not worth confronting either.”

  “The only reason she’s popular is because of her sister India. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in that family,” Presley says with venom in her voice. “And she puts out for guys.”

  “She’s a damn sophomore,” Emma spits.

  I shake my head. “Anyway, don’t worry about it. And no, you’re not fat. You’re cuddly,” Presley adds.

  Easy for Presley to say. She’s got a smoking hot body and doesn’t even have to work for it. Emma casually gets up, and walks over to Jakayla. She stands next to her, with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Jakayla looks up at Emma, and smiles.

  Emma leans down, her left arm extended on the back of Jakayla’s chair, and gets right in her face. “Shit,” I say wanting to stop Emma.

  “Leave her,” Presley says as she grabs hold of my hand.

  I watch as Emma says something to Jakayla. Jakayla’s face reddens, her eyes widen, then suddenly she bursts into tears. I have no idea what Emma said, but Jakayla obviously isn’t liking it.

  I can’t help but feel proud of Emma.

  Emma struts over to us, and sits, resuming her lunch like a damn queen. “Whatever you did, you didn’t have to do,” I say.

  “I know I didn’t have to. But when sophomores think they can come in here and rule the school, they need to be reminded they won’t get away with shit.” She directs her hardened stare back at Jakayla, who I turn to see isn’t even looking this way anymore. Her friends are consoling her while she cries.

  “I can’t wait for today to be over,” I say as I glance down at my food, and although I want to eat it, I’d better not. I need to lose more weight. That way I can blend in with everyone and won’t be a target anymore.

  Emma and Presley talk, and all I can think about is doing more exercise, and eating less so I can get rid of more pounds. It’s the downfall of having a mother who’s Greek and a father who’s American. And a Papou and Yiayia who live in the granny flat in our backyard. My Yiayia is always making Greek cakes and bringing them over for us to eat. My sisters, Daphne and Cleo, are both lucky. They have Dad’s metabolism and can eat anything and everything, and not put on weight.

  Me, on the other hand, I’m the one who inherited Mom’s metabolism. Which means we eat, we get fat. We don’t eat, we get fat. We exercise, we stay fat.

  “Hey, we gotta get to class.” Emma stands and takes her tray over to the trash to empty it.

  I grab my non-eaten lunch, and throw it away too. Heading over to class, I can’t help but think that I have to do more to lose weight. Obviously, the twenty pounds I’ve lost isn’t showing.

  “Hey, Mom,” I call as I walk into the house.

  “In the kitchen. Yiayia and I are making yemista. And Yiayia’s made loukomathes.”

  Of course, they’re cooking. I drop my bag by the front door, and plaster on a fake smile. “Hi.” I go over and give Mom a kiss, then Yiayia.

  “You need to eat. You look too skinny,” Yiayia says, suspiciously drawing her eyes up and down my body.

  “She’s fine the way she is,” Mom defends me before I can say anything.

  “She’s too skinny,” Yiayia replies. “Here, have some loukomathes.” She shoves two under my nose. Greek donuts, so damn good. And damn rich, soaking in its sweet honey syrup.

  “I’m good, I had a lot at lunch.” Yiayia’s gaze hardens, as her lips form a thin straight line. Yiayia is Mom’s mom, and she has no filter. She’ll say what she wants, and whenever she wants. “I’m going to my room. I’ve got homework.” I leave the kitchen and the delicious smells mingling together, and head for my room. It’s better I stay in my room so I’m not tempted by the food.

  Flopping down on my bed, I hug my pillow to my chest, and close my eyes. Why can’t I be skinny? Why did I have to be the fat one out of the three of us girls?

  If I don’t do more, then I’m only going to get fatter. I jump off my bed, put on my sport shoes, and head out to the kitchen. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back a bit later,” I say to Mom.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I just feel like going for a walk. I shouldn’t be too long.”

  “Okay, take your phone.”

  “Already have it.” I hold my phone up, showing Mom.

  I hear Yiayia saying something to Mom, but I tune out as I pop my earphones in and turn on the music.

  I look down at my watch. Okay, it’s nearly four. If I can walk until five, and watch what I eat at dinner, hopefully the weight will start coming off. I begin walking fast, trying to build up a sweat, and get my heartrate going. I should invest in a calorie app, something that tells me how many calories I’m eating. Ugh, but Mom and Yiayia always make Greek food for us. Maybe there’s a calorie app for Greek food. Or I can stop eating pasta. God only knows we eat a lot of pasta. Oh, what if I eat only a cup of pasta with a little sauce? I wonder how many calories one cup of pasta and sauce is? But Mom and Yiayia are making yemista tonight. One of my favorites. Stuffed tomatoes and peppers with rice. Yum, I love yemista. Okay, I’m not going to walk for an hour, then go home and eat, that’ll undo all my hard work. So, I’ll put one stuffed tomato on my plate, and I’ll eat half, but make it look like I’ve eaten more.

  That won’t work, Yiayia will know I haven’t eaten more. She’s like a hawk when it comes to food. Daphne and Cleo are so lucky they live on campus at college, they don’t have Yiayia watching everything they do. I can’t wait’ til I go to college. There I can eat whatever I want, and Yiayia and Mom won’t know.

  Actually, I know what I’ll do. I’ll grab a PB&J sandwich, and go to my room to eat it. I’ll shove it in my bag, and throw it out at school tomorrow. Perfect. Then at dinner I’ll say I’m full and can’t eat more than half a stuffed tomato.

  I look at my watch and notice I’ve been walking for twenty minutes already. The whole time all I’ve been thinking about is how not to eat. Turning back, I up my pace, hoping I can burn more calories before I get home.

  “Dinner,” Mom calls.

  My stomach grumbles because I’m so hungry, but I have to lose
weight. I can’t stay the way I am. It’s not healthy. Not for someone who’s five-foot-six. I’ve hidden my PB&J in my bag, and now I have to face my parents and grandparents at the dinner table.

  I walk out and see my favorite, and a dish of lemon and herb potatoes. Oh my God, I love these potatoes! They’re so good.

  “Hi, Dad,” I say seeing him for the first time today.

  “Hey. How’s my baby girl?” He walks over to me and gives me a big hug.

  “I’m okay. How was work?”

  “Mrs. Jones wanted to give me flowers today, and Mr. Smith took his clothes off and went to the bathroom in the corner. And of course, Mrs. Lomax sat in the dining room yelling at the staff, saying she wanted to go home and her daughter was coming to get her.”

  “How do you cope watching that every day?” I ask.

  “They’re so beautiful, and have worked all their lives, so they deserve our attention and their integrity. Working in an aged care facility is rewarding. Nothing makes me feel better then when I fix something in their rooms, and all they do is tell me how thankful they are. I love it.” Dad beams with pride. He’s the head of maintenance in an aged care facility about twenty minutes away. He loves it, and I love how much he loves his job.

  “Jane, come help with the table,” Yiayia calls to me.

  “άφησε την ήσυχη,” Papou says. I smile, when Papou jumps to my defense.

  “I won’t leave her alone. And talk English,” Yiayia scolds Papou.

  “Έλληνας Είμαι, άσε με ήσυχο.” He flicks his hand and Yiayia and I giggle some more.

  “I know you’re Greek. We all know you’re Greek, but you need to speak English,” Mom says. “Jane doesn’t know how to speak Greek.”

  “But I understand it,” I say, defending Papou. I look over to him, and he gives me a cheeky smile and small wink. “Anyway, let me help with the table.” It’s the best way to keep the peace in my loud, half-Greek family. “Dad, Emma’s Dad asked if you want to play golf this weekend.”

  Dad screws his nose up. “Nah, I’m fine to stay home.”

  “But you should get out, go and play golf with your friends,” Mom encourages.