Une Fleure Fanée

Week 13 Part 3 (Tuesday)

     My alarm goes up at five o'clock. Back into the old song and dance, eh? Dance it is. Why am I mildly excited to get back? I might have gotten the highest scoring solo, but I was beat by a Studio 19 member, Louise Hindsbo.

     All I want to do is roll back in bed, but I hear Mom's footsteps ascending to the coffee pot, and I guess that's my cue. I groggily stumble, my legs feeling an immense amount of pain. I grab black leggings, a black sports bra, and a red hoodie, collapsing back on the bed to put them on.

     I put on my shoes early, and it does help my legs a bit. I do my skincare, hair, makeup, and take my medicine in the bathroom. Only five weeks left. Only five weeks left until this is all over. My hair goes into a high ponytail, my makeup is pretty natural, and my medicine is useless.

     My cuts are in pretty bad shape. Most of them are now white, only a few purple and red. The white ones blend in almost because I'm so pale, the foundation almost doesn't match my skin. I cover them up with foundation, setting powder, and move on with my day.

     I have 150 calories today. If I eat a quarter cup of Cheerios, which is 35 calories. That should give me enough fuel until lunch. A couple baby carrots for lunch, and some portion size for dinner. Today will be interesting. Don't eat more than 150 calories, Lilliana. You're going to be so fat if you eat more.

     I stumble to the kitchen and Mom isn't here. Perfect. I grab a measuring cup and Cheerios. I put exactly ¼ cup into the measuring cup, put it in a bowl, get the Cheerio dust out of the measuring cup, and put the measuring cup away.

     "No carpool today," Mom bluntly states, eating her eggs.

     I nod understandingly, eating my dry Cheerios. It's awful, but it's all the food I can have for breakfast. I do need food to survive, after all. You don't need food to survive, Lilliana. You can go 30 days without food. 30 days is all you deserve. I'm not going on a fasting spree this week. I need my body to readjust to dance.

     "Do you want anything else to eat?" Mom asks, raising an eyebrow.

     "I'll just take an Ensure. I'm not really that hungry," I say, putting my plate into the sink.

     "Okay. Get your dance stuff and your phone. We have to go to the horrible pyramid," Mom complains, getting her purse.

     "Spooky," I joke, going back to my bedroom to gather my things.

     I'm so excited to see Elliana again! The past two weeks haven't been the same without her. I very quickly gather my things, including my phone and my Venlafaxine, and I run back to the living room.

     I grab an Ensure, and we walk to the elevator. I start thinking of how Elliana will react to seeing me almost four pounds lighter than the last time she saw me. Will this be the final straw? I hope not.

     Speaking of weight, now that I've hit my 55 pound goal, what's my new goal? I get in the elevator, and I try to think of another increment. 50 pounds? That would mean I would lose ⅜ of my original body weight.

     I get out of the elevator, and we quickly make our way to the car. I'm also nervous about Sarah. The producers could not have kicked her out. She caused way too much drama to be sent home. But where does that leave her?

     I buckle in my seatbelt and I watch the highway. I text around with the other girls, and I think about school. Just another week or so, and I'll be done with social studies. All I'll have is English, which will be easier.

     "You do realize there is probably going to be a lot of fighting?" Mom reminds me.

     "Honestly, when isn't there?" I ask back.