Chapter 24

 Girl Time 

By the time that weekend rolled around, I hadn’t made a single mistake.

I recorded every single calorie, drank enough water to hydrate a whale, and worked out every morning. My sweatpants had started to get baggy through the legs, which I hardly dared acknowledge for fear I imagined it. Tying the waistband so my pants stayed on—something I had never had to do in my life—meant a beautiful thing was finally starting to happen.

Still, I avoided the mirror when possible. What if I didn’t see physical results? My motivation would be crushed. Leaning into chosen denial seemed like the easier option.

When I woke up on Saturday morning at six, I started going through the motions of getting ready for the gym like I would on a weekday. Mira and I had plans to go just before lunch, but I figured sooner wouldn’t hurt. The sting of seeing 252 kept haunting my dreams. Even the gym would be better than facing a new string of nightmares.

Maybe.

“Hey,” I said to myself while slipping my frayed tennis shoes on, “at least I didn’t dream about food last night.”

An eery quiet met me at the gym. Most people probably chose the wisest route and stayed home in their warm beds. I started my workout with my gaze averted; I felt like I wore a beacon on my back that drew every pair of eyes to me. Without Mira at my side as another big-girl-in-arms, I would seem particularly overweight. The thought made me self-conscious. Was everyone staring at me on the bike? Was my stomach sticking out too much? I’d worn my biggest shirt. But … wait … yep. I was definitely the biggest girl in the room.

Ugh.

I ducked my head into a magazine and tried to convince myself that I could disappear for twenty minutes, not unlike one of those birds that puts their head in the sand. My life had been spent with my metaphorical head in the sands of denial. Twenty more minutes wouldn’t kill me.

“Lexie, right?”

I had just stepped away from filling my water bottle at the cooler before heading home—the gym was just too awkward to face by myself without the comfort of Mira at my side—when Megan approached, brown braid swinging, a slight smile on her face.

“Yeah,” I said in surprise. “Good memory. How are you?”

She unscrewed the lid on an old Gatorade bottle to fill it up. “As good as can be expected.” She gave me a wry smile, but a tinge of fatigue lingered in her slightly red eyes. “I don’t normally see you here on Saturday mornings. Why are you up so early?”

“That’s a really good question.”

To my surprise, she laughed. “I guess that’s the question to ask all of us, huh?” she said over the tinkling sound of water filling her bottle. “We must be exceptionally dedicated to a healthy life.”

Or desperate. I’m thinking desperate.

“Yeah. Maybe.” How quickly could I duck away? The safety of my basement lair beckoned.

“I suppose there are worse reasons to wake up early,” Megan said with a friendly smirk, straightening up when her bottle finished filling. Her forehead wrinkled. “Hey, I just finished. Are you done too?”

“Uh, yes. I was just on my way home.”

She motioned to a blonde girl in the corner stacking a few black plates on a stand. “That’s my friend Dana. We normally go out for breakfast after a workout, but she has to work early so she can’t go. Want to come with me?”

I must have panicked like a deer in the headlights because she gave me a reassuring smile. “Don’t have to!” she clarified, holding her hands up. “But I thought it might be fun. You seem great.”

I swallowed. Megan wanted to be friends with me. Confident, self-assured, imperfect-but-didn’t-notice-it Megan. “Really?” I heard myself asking. “But you hardly know me.”

She waved that off. “I know you like to work out.”

“Ha ha … no. I hate working out. It’s nothing more than a desperate attempt at finding a new reality for my life.”

Her eyes crinkled when she laughed again, a full belly laugh that made her tip her head back and put a hand on her stomach. I couldn’t imagine how I’d suddenly become funny overnight. Or had I always had a sense of humor, I just hadn’t known it?

The idea blew my mind.

“Aren’t we all? You don’t have to go, but it could be a fun way to start a Saturday. Besides,” a wry, nearly bitter tone slipped into her voice, “My boyfriend just broke up with me. I could use some girl time.”

My mouth dropped to the floor. “Who would break up with you?”

“Plenty of guys,” she replied, her jaw tense. “Trust me. You interested in breakfast?”

Interested? Was she kidding? Of course I wanted to eat with her! Outside of Rachelle, I’d never had anyone ask me for girl time. Or any time for that matter. Not that I really encouraged friendships as a general rule, anyway, so the great unknown mass of potential friends weren’t exactly at fault. Eating breakfast sounded perfect except for the annoying little detail that had taken over my life.

“I … I’m dieting,” I blurted out, and cringed. Megan didn’t need to know I was dieting. Likely, she didn’t care. If Rachelle hadn’t cared, why would Megan? Still, I felt dumb saying it, doubting that Megan had ever had to go on a diet in her life.

“So?”

“Well,” I stammered, “I can’t eat out while I’m on a diet.”

“Sure you can.”

I scoffed. “That kind of stuff isn’t allowed. In general, I’ve found that I’m not supposed to eat foods that I enjoy.”

She chuckled. “Then we need to get you out more. There’s lots of yummy healthy food out there.”

“Ha! Sure. I’ll believe that when I see it. But thanks for the offer.” My shoulders slumped in disappointment. I’d been perfect on my calories and exercise ever since weigh-in, and feared I’d throw off all my mojo if I even smelled butter or maple syrup. “It really would have been fun.”

Megan’s head tilted to the side as if she were confused. “Are you really on that strict of a diet? Because I’m sure we could find something for you.”

“Well, I can eat food I guess … it’s just … what can I get that’s healthy at IHOP?”

Her nose wrinkled. “IHOP? Gross! We aren’t going to go to IHOP. That’s not even real food. That’s just processed white flour. We’ll go to a small place down the road. My friend owns it. I promise, there’s plenty of healthy food.”

My resolve slowly crumbled. “Bitsy would kill me.”

“Who’s Bitsy?”

“My drill sergeant.” I brushed it off when she raised an eyebrow in question.

“C’mon,” she said. “Just try it. If we don’t see anything that you can eat on this mysterious diet, we’ll go somewhere else until we find food that you can have. We’ll grab some fruit at the grocery store if we have too. Sound okay?”

“You’d do that just to eat breakfast with me?”

“Of course. We’re practically workout buddies. Let’s go.”

I followed her to the exit against my better judgment. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Megan. Of any human, certainly she’d understand the need for eating healthy. Going out with Rachelle would have guaranteed my failure for the day and an imminent binge. Megan? No. At least … I didn’t think so. I wasn’t all that used to making friends. But I hadn’t even stepped foot in a restaurant since the fateful Donut Binge weeks before. Would I have the strength to turn down a dish of sugary sweetness? I didn’t have willpower.

I never had.

Drawing in a deep breath, I steeled myself for the inevitable, certain I was just about to break my three-day streak of perfection.