Perfectly Thin Read online

  He shakes his head and stretches his arms over head. “I’m quite content to stay home with my family.”

  “Remember, I’m going to dinner and the movies with the girls Saturday night,” Mom reminds Dad. He flicks his hand at her, and nods.

  I sit in my spot, and place one stuffed tomato, and one lemon and herb potato on my plate. Normally, I’d have at least three tomatoes, and a bunch of potatoes. But that ‘normally’ is what’s made me so fat, and I have to cut down on what I’m eating in order to make this weight shrink.

  “Jane, is that all you’re eating?” Yiayia asks.

  “Yeah, I had that sandwich when I got home from my walk, and I’m not really hungry.” I lower my eyes, not wanting Yiayia to see me lying.

  “Φάε,” Yiayia says as she watches me closely.

  “Okay, I’ll eat,” I reply to her.

  Everyone is enjoying dinner, while I take my time eating what I have on the plate. I eat the potato, and my stomach grumbles and begs for more. But I won’t give it any more. I have to lose weight. I hate to think how many calories the potato had. Drenched in olive oil, salt, lemon, and herbs. But oh so good ,too. I’m afraid if I start eating the stuffed tomato, that I won’t want to stop. They’re just so delicious.

  “Why aren’t you eating?” Dad asks.

  “I’m still kinda full. I went for a walk when I got home from school, then had a PB&J when I got back, so I’m not really hungry.”

  Dad narrows his eyes at me. “You’re looking really good. But starving yourself is not the way to go to lose weight.”

  “I’m not starving myself!” I’m just not eating. “I’m not hungry.”

  “She said she’s not hungry,” Papou says. “Leave her.”

  “What’s wrong with them? Don’t they taste good?” Mom asks, putting the blame back on herself, as if she’s done something wrong.

  “They’re really good, Mom. I’m not hungry though. I had some potatoes, but if you want me to eat this, I will, but I’m full and I may end up throwing it up.” Can’t they drop the interrogation? Why are they all so fixated on how much I’m eating? Ugh.

  Dad waves his hand at me. “Don’t eat if you’re not hungry.”

  “She’ll have loukomathes after dinner. She won’t starve,” Yiayia says.

  No, I won’t. But I can’t tell them. Not when food is such an important part of our heritage as a Greek family. “Yeah, maybe. But I’m not hungry.” My stomach churns, and I’m grateful for Dad and Papou talking about Dad’s work or they would’ve heard. The temptation to eat everything on the table is huge. A massive part of me wants to eat it all, a small part of me is whispering the words, fat and elephant. I shift in my chair, trying to distract myself from salivating at the food. I lower my hands beneath the table so no one can see, and grab the hem of my t-shirt, wringing it around my fingers. “I’m a bit tired from my walk, do you mind if I go lay down?”

  “But you haven’t eaten,” Mom states as she looks at my uneaten stuffed tomato.

  “I promise, if I get hungry later, I’ll come and eat, okay?” I wait for her response. She gives me a nod.

  “You’re not wasting that. Give it here,” Dad says as he holds his hand out for my plate. I hand it to Dad, then head into my room.

  I lay on my bed, and my stomach feels like it’s eating itself. I’m so hungry. I haven’t had anything to eat since this morning other than that small amount of potatoes. Reaching over, I grab my water bottle off the nightstand and gulp the water. My stomach calms, but only for a moment before it starts gurgling again.

  Ugh, I’ll have a shower and go to bed, and hopefully this feeling will pass.

  Grabbing my clothes, I head into the shower. Once the water’s on and I’m stripped, I stand beneath the water, closing my eyes, and enjoy the hot stream pelting down on my body. If I have an apple and a banana for breakfast, then maybe a carrot and a cucumber for lunch, and a tiny bowl of whatever we’re having for dinner, then weight should start falling off me. Especially if I start walking at least an hour every day. Better still, instead of catching the bus to school, I can walk both there and back home. Extra calories I can burn. I make a mental note to check out exercises I can do that have maximum calorie burn to help get rid of all this disgusting fat.

  God, I hate being fat. I hate the stares, and the snide remarks. I hate everything about it.

  I wish I was thin.

  “I heard a rumor,” Emma says when we meet for lunch.

  “Yeah, about who?” Presley asks.

  I put my food tray on the table, and stare at its contents. I grab my water bottle, open it, and drink. My stomach complains, wanting food. Picking up the apple, I bite into it. It quiets my stomach, but only for a moment before it starts to twist and turn with hunger again.

  “Jane,” Emma says.

  “Yeah, what?” I hear my name being called, and I’m distracted for a moment from my gurgling stomach, demanding more food than just the fruit I’ve eaten. I wonder how many calories this apple is. Ugh, I really have to download an app soon.

  “Are you listening?” Emma asks. I look over to her, and she’s smiling like a crazy woman.

  “Sorry, no, I wasn’t. But you have my full attention now.” I turn to face her, making sure I listen.

  “I said, Carson Baker was talking to me about you today.”

  I screw my face up, and bite at my fingernail, unsure as to why he’d be asking about me. “Why?” I ask, with a quick, small head shake. Why would he be talking to Emma about me? What have I done? I mean, he’s Carson Baker. The ‘cool’ kid. The one who throws those stupid wild parties when his parents are out of town, the one who pretty much has his choice of whatever girl he wants.

  “He asked me if you had a boyfriend.”

  “Eeek!” Presley eagerly blurts, then claps her hands together.

  “Um, well...” I can’t see why he’d be asking about me. I’m painfully ordinary, and he’s so, beautiful. “Why?” I ask again, even more confused now.

  “He told me he likes you.”

  Again, why? “Oh, right,” I say sarcastically, not immediately responding to Emma’s and Presley’s enthusiasm. I mean, why would I? Is this some kind of sick joke? “That’s great, eh?”

  “He asked me for your number, and I said no. If he wants it, he has to ask you himself,” Emma proudly states.

  Great. I clear my throat, and suddenly feel really nervous. My knee bounces below the table, and I’m imagining mock conversations of this interaction with Carson.

  In my head, I watch as he walks over to me, with his suave swagger. He leans against the wall and smiles. Super-cliché, I know. I lower my eyes for a moment, before looking up to him and shyly returning his smile. Then I vomit all over his shoes.

  No! I will not vomit. Try that again, Jane.

  We pass in the corridor and he’s talking to his friend, and he turns his head to catch me in his line of sight. He stops talking with his friend, and grabs my upper arm to talk to me. And I vomit all over his shoes.

  What the... stop it, Jane!

  I’m walking home from school, and I hear a car pull up beside me. The passenger window lowers, and he gestures for me to come over to him. “Hey, Jane,” he says. I lean into the open window, and vomit on his cloth seats.

  Can’t I at least imagine the seat to be leather? That way I can clean the vomit up. I feel like smacking myself on the head to knock some sense into me.

  Get a grip, Jane.

  One, he’s not into you.

  Two, he’s too perfect and you’re too fat. He wouldn’t look at you when there are other girls who are way hotter.

  Three, you’re not going to throw up on him, because he’s never going to talk to you.

  “Hi Jane,” I hear a raspy deep voice from behind me.

  My eyes widen, my mouth opens, and I can feel the fire igniting, and spreading rapidly through me, my face being the most obvious victim of this horrendous heat. “Hi,” I respond, my voice cracking.

  “How are you?” he asks as he sits beside me. Carson Baker is nothing short of beautiful. With his perfect chin, his captivating eyes, and that sexy-as-sin voice.

  “I’m great.” I lower my chin, letting my hair cover the crimson red color of my cheeks.

  “Just getting some water.” Emma and Presley both stand to leave. I flash them a what the hell look? I need my support group here. Emma smiles, and gives me a small wink before they both leave. I roll my eyes, and clench my jaw at them trying to silently convey how I don’t want them to leave.

  “So, I’m wondering if you’d like to go to the movies tomorrow night?” Carson asks.

  I turn to look at him. My face must be doing something, because he starts to laugh. “What are you laughing at?” I ask as I draw my brows together.

  “You’re so cute. You gave this spaced-out look, when I asked you to the movies. Look, you don’t have to go. I was just hoping you and I could maybe hang out together. Get to know each other.”

  “Why?” I ask, perplexed. “I mean, why after nearly six years of going to the same school would you be asking me out? Or even talking to me?”

  “I think you’re different, and I like that about you.”

  “You do?” I screw my face up. Why can my face never behave? Why does it have to outwardly express everything I’m feeling on the inside? Be cool, Jane. Get a grip. “Anyway, you want to take me to the movies?” I ask. More like double-check in case I heard him wrong.

  “Yeah, tomorrow night. What do you think? Does that sound okay?”

  “As in, you and me?” I point to myself, then him.

  “Yeah.”

  My eye twitches and I tilt my head to the side. “Just you and me?” my voice slides into a higher pitch.

  He laughs,
and looks down at his wringing hands. What, is he as nervous as I am? “Yeah, just you and me,” he says in a smaller voice. “Unless you don’t want to. Then, yeah, that’s cool too.” He fidgets in his chair, straightening his shoulders, before turning his neck and cracking it. “It’s cool.” He actually looks hurt.

  “Yeah, that would be good. Thank you. What movie do you want to see?” I ask.

  His face beams happily. “Yeah? Um, well how about I pick you up, say five, and we can just head down to the movies and see what’s playing? Maybe grab pizza before or after the movie?”

  Ugh, food. I don’t want to undo everything I’ve been doing. I’ll tell him my parents forced me to eat, and I’m not hungry. “Yeah, sounds good.”

  “Great, can I have your number?” He holds out his phone, and waits for me to enter my phone number into it.

  “Sure.” Grabbing it, I quickly enter my number, and turn to get mine out of my bag so I can get his. I hand it to him, but he’s already standing.

  He sees me holding my phone out to him, and he says, “I’ll message you later, I’ve gotta go. You’ll get my number when I message you, cool?”

  “Ah, yeah, sure.” How weird. Maybe he’s just really anxious, like I am. Maybe, he’s not at all like I thought he’d be. I shouldn’t have judged him just because he always dates the beautiful girls at school. Or because he’s never really even acknowledged me before. Maybe he’s not like the image I have in my head of him. Maybe he never has been.

  Smiling like Cheshire cats, Emma and Presley return to the table. “Judging from that smile, you two are going out?” Presley asks. She and Emma lean in to get the news.

  “Yeah, we’re going out for pizza and a movie. He’s picking me up at five.”

  “Oh, how awesome! Will your parents let you go? I know how strict your grandparents are,” Presley says.

  “I won’t tell Yiayia. But I’ll tell Mom.”

  “And your mom will tell your grandma.” Presley gives me a sharp glance.

  She’s right, she will. Then I’ll have to hear the lecture from Yiayia telling me how all he wants is to have sex, and good Greek girls don’t have sex until marriage. It’s the same lecture she gave Daphne, and Cleo. I know my turn’s coming.

  “I’ll make Mom promise not to say anything.”

  “Like that’ll work,” Emma chuckles.

  “Actually, I think it will. Because Mom doesn’t want Yiayia to have a go at her.”

  “Why would your grandma have a go at your mom?” Presley questions.

  “Ha! Because we’re Greek. And Yiayia is loud. So, when Yiayia and Papou came to live in the granny flat behind our house, Yiayia would come into the house and tell Mom off because I was wearing a cardigan and it was too hot. Or I wasn’t wearing a cardigan and it was too cold. So Mom would say to me, have a cardigan nearby, because that would stop Yiayia having a go at Mom.”

  “Your grandma is pretty cool with us,” Presley says as she points to Emma then herself.

  “She’s come a long way. She doesn’t criticize as much as she used to. Mom went off at her, telling her if she didn’t like the way Mom and Dad were raising us, she could always leave and go back to Greece. Yiayia was angry, and so cut over that. But Papou stepped in, and talked sense into her. She doesn’t lecture as much anymore.”

  “What’s it like for your dad? He’s gotta find it hard,” Emma asks.

  “He’s learned some words in Greek, and he understands it a bit more than he used to. But he loves it. He’s a homebody. He’s never been interested in doing anything more than hanging out with the family.”

  “Yeah, Dad keeps wanting him to go to the golf club with him. But your dad never takes him up on the offer. Will you convince him? My Dad likes him. He likes his values.”

  I think Dad and Emma’s dad would get on so well. “I think they could have a beautiful bro-mance,” I say as I chuckle.

  “I think they could too.”

  “So, are you excited? What are you going to wear? How are you going to do your hair?” Presley asks, bringing our attention back to tomorrow’s date with Carson, making my nervousness spike.

  “Crap, I don’t know. What should I wear? Jeans? A dress?” I don’t have any nice dresses. They all make me look fat, I mean heaps fatter than I actually am. I chew on the inside of my cheek, worried.

  “What’s wrong?” Presley asks.

  A strained smile stretches across my lips. “I’m...” I stop myself from saying how I really feel. Disgusting and fat. “Don’t worry.”

  “Tell us. We’ve been best friends for like forever, you can tell us anything. Like how we can tell you anything,” Emma encourages me. “Like the time I told you I got felt up by Jason Ridley in junior high. And the time I snuck a bottle of vodka from my parents, and drank a tall glass of it and was sick for two days. And what about the time I shoplifted that t-shirt, and got caught by store security and they called my Mom, I got a hiding so bad I couldn’t sit for two days. We tell you shit all the time, so you better tell us what you’re thinking.”

  She’s right, I shouldn’t hide what I’m feeling from them. “It’s just...” I exhale letting go of a long breath. “I look really fat in everything.”

  “What? You’re looking smoking hot, girl. Why don’t you wear those blue, torn jeans, and that cute black top with the crossy lace part at the front? Makes your boobs look good, and shows off your hips,” Emma says.

  “Yes! I love that top. It so makes your boobs look great. Oh, and I’m coming over and doing your make-up. Red lips. Guys love red lips.” Presley excitedly claps her hands together.

  “I’m not wearing red lips. I just want to have a nice date with him. I’m not doing anything with him.”

  “You’re seventeen, girl, nearly eighteen. You need to lose your V-card.”

  “I’ll be eighteen in three months. And no, I’m not losing my virginity to the first guy who pays attention to me. You and Mark were together for nearly two years before you two had sex, Presley. And I’m not ready to jump into it with just anyone.” Besides, they’d die of repulsion once I took off my clothes and they saw my grotesque body. I retch at my own self-image, shuddering with disgust knowing how bad I look beneath the protection of my armor, my clothing.

  “Just saying, you could have a bit of fun.” Presley holds her hands up in surrender. “But I get it too. You don’t wanna have sex yet. You go, girl!” She fist pumps the air.

  I let out a small chuckle but start thinking about what to wear again. “You really think my blue, ripped jeans and my black top? You don’t think it will make me look too round?”

  “You’ve lost a ton of weight, Jane, and you look so damn fine. Flirt, own it, be proud,” Emma says.

  “But I have so much more to lose.”

  “No way. Maybe ten pounds tops, but even still, you carry it well cause you’re tall.”

  More like fifty pounds, if not sixty or seventy. “Yeah, okay.” I don’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. But I know the girls will tell me I’m being stupid. They have to say that, they’re my best friends. “So, jeans and the black top.”

  “Yep,” both Emma and Presley say.

  I nod my head, caught up in my own self-loathing. Everywhere I look at school, I see all the girls are super slim and gorgeous. It’s like no one has an ounce of body fat. God, life would be so good if I looked like them. I imagine how wonderful their lives are, being skinny, and able to identify with every magazine picture, every actress, and every singer out there. To be able to walk into any store, and find something cute easily.

  Who can I identify with? No one, because fat girls aren’t cast in movies, unless they’re playing a stereotypical fat girl or the comic relief. They put on weight for movies, then shed it the moment the movie’s been wrapped up. I hate my body so much. I see beauty everywhere I look, which makes me feel even worse about my body. Because not only will I never be skinny, I’ll never be gorgeous either. At least skinny people have their body going for them regardless of how they look. What do I have?

  Yeah great, my personality. Which sucks just as much as the rest of me.

  I came home from school yesterday, and was going to tell Mom about my date with Carson, but Yiayia and Mom were having an argument about something, so I decided not to say anything.