Maybe Our DNA Does Match....

April, 2001:

It's spring break and I'm in seventh grade. We're on a family vacation in Marina del Ray, CA. I was so nervous about the trip before we went. Warm weather! Bathing suits! What am I going to wear?? We get there. We go out to dinner. I order something that I feel guilty about ordering. I shouldn't have gotten it. We go back to the hotel. I go to the bathroom. Try to purge. I can't remember if I actually got anything. My mom knocks on the door. "Angie, are you trying to throw up in there?"

Today:

So, I didn't binge or purge last night. And part of me is so excited about this I want to go hug strangers out on the street.

However. Part of me just thinks "Oh, it's just a matter of time. Don't get too excited. In 2 or 3 days (if you last that long), you'll be right back in it again."

The funny thing is, last night, I thought I was going to do it.

Let me just say that when the idea gets in your head, (for me at least) there's no turning back. They always say "Distract yourself!" Yeah, well, Ed can't get distracted. I've tried going for walks, talking to people, watching/reading/crocheting something, and it NEVER works. But last night it was different.

I had my daily 4 hour nap in the middle of the day, and when I woke up, my parents and my brother were gone. I was convinced they were off doing fun filled family things like going to Disneyland and pretending they were a well-adjusted family of 3, but my parents were actually had the store to get a water filter (guess I'm not the only one who noticed the tap water tastes like shit).

Anyways. They get home, and my mom sees me, and it looks like she's going to cry. Or that she was just crying. I'm not sure why. I decide that I'm sick to fucking DEATH of holing up in my mom's/my room, so I go out to the living room and decide that bingeing on "Friends" on DVD is a good choice for the evening. No purging necessary.

My mom sits down, and watches it with me. This, my friends, is huge. It's MONUMENTAL. My mom never EVER just randomly joins me in stuff like this. She's off with my dad, Mr. If-You-Leave-Me-For-a-Second-I'll-Die, or playing cards with my grandma or something. And even if she is free, I'm usually a) sleeping, b) pissed off, or c) in the event that I'm watching something, it's usually of the teen melodrama, "Dawson's Creek" "Beverly Hills 90210" variety and my mom has no interest in it.

After a night of HILARITY (Oh, Chandler, you slay me!) my mom said "Do you want to watch another, or read before going to bed?" At this point, part of me was like "Damn...I don't think I can get away with bingeing since she's like a fucking WATCHDOG" but another part was "WHOA! You want to spend time...with ME?!" So, before reading before bedtime (Ahhh, the librarian and her daughter), I layed down and rested my head in her lap like I used to when I was little and she was combing my hair with her fingers and telling me about this children's book she has to read for work and I felt happy and sleepy and like everything was normal again and none of this ever happened and things would be okay. Then I got ready for bed, read a little, and went to sleep.

It's seriously been the best night I've had since I've been here.

Earlier yesterday, I was angry at my mom.

Me: "Maybe you should educate yourself on eating disorders or something. Oooh, so you read ONE BOOK! How about you...READ ANOTHER?? Or go to a meeting or something?!"

Then my mom starts laughing. LAUGHING. I cannot tell you how many times she laughs when I say something like this.

"Oh, I'm glad you think the situation is funny."

Librarian: I'm not laughing because it's funny! I'm laughing because if I don't, I'm going to CRY!

And then she stomps out of the room.

Hmmm. Maybe I was a little harsh. But I admit, I was kind of glad to see that my mom cares, a least a little. I don't know. All these conflicting emotions have my head spinning.

My gma's bed is set up. Now my dad is just trying to hang this curtain thing up so she has privacy. It kind of hurts. The last time I saw the bed assembled, with that cute yellow comforter, it was when I was living on my own in San Diego and things were....different.

I still miss him. Dammit. And I want to see him, want to tell him I'm back.....butbutbutbutbut these are my concerns:

a) He could have a girlfriend. Or a possible one. If that happens, all the Lexapro in the world will not cure my sadness.

b) If he DID want to see me, the thing is....I don't WANT him to. I mean, I look far different than I did the last time I saw him. And not different in the Post-Swan makeover type of way. Different in the "Hi! I'm Angie, 19, from Wisconsin, and I'm in need of an EXTREME MAKEOVER!" type of way.

c) Things will be different. No matter what. They always are. And I'd rather avoid situations than face actual reality, thanks.

Ugh. Just thinking about it makes me nervous and nauseous and butterflies in stomach and the way you feel in seventh grade when you have your friend go up to the kid with braces who's in your advanced reading class and tell him that you want to dance with him and you're sitting there waiting palms sweaty heart racing. Yeah, that actually did happen. And the guy's response to dancing with me?

"I would never go out with that fat ugly bitch."

Hmm. And people wonder why I have a problem.

But, then again, the kid turned out to be a raging homosexual (I won't name any names, but by the way, How are you, Joe Piechura??) But I digress.

Ahhh. Saturday. FAMILY DAY. My mom said something about seeing a movie, and we might take a walk around a lake or something. It could be worse.

My dad asked me if I was going to the gym today. No, I say. Why not? he says.

This pissed me off. Do YOU go to the gym every day? God. I swear, if I became anorexic again, my parents would LOVE it. At the gym every day! What willpower she has around food! She's so fit! So thin! So successful!

God, bulimia is such an inconveinance, isn't it?

Hmmm.