Chapter Two

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I need to lose weight. I need to lose fat. I need to be skinny. I need to be loved.

I feel like if I was skinny, half of my problems would go away. The past would stop troubling me. I would feel more confident in the choices that I make. 

Everyday I eat the same breakfast: an apple and a water. Everyday I eat the same lunch: exactly one hundred calories worth of salad. Everyday I eat the same dinner: exactly one hundred calories worth of salad. I don't snack in between. I don't drink anything but water. I don't waste calories on candy or sweets. I stick to my diet and I'm still not losing weight fast enough. 

It's not like I don't exercise, because I do. I just don't have time to do it as often as I probably should. I try to run a mile or two a day on my treadmill. I always do a stomach, arm, and thigh exercise routine. I'm still not losing weight fast enough.

It feels like I have a thousand pounds worth of weight on me. I hate that feeling. It makes me feel disgusting. It makes me feel worthless. It makes me want to cry and curl up in a ball in the corner. No one wants a fat girl. 

Despite what people will tell you, no one wants a over-weight and disgusting girl. All of society is filled with craving for bones, skin, and size zero. I'm never going to be that. I'm never going to be what I see in magazines and on TV. And that kills me everyday. 

I haven't seen Patrick around since the record store incident. I really wish that I would "run into him again". He made me feel kind of okay for a short period of time. He has this personality that makes you believe that there's nothing bad in the world. I don't know, it was weird. That's never happened to me before. 

For the last week I've had to sit here and wonder if he's still around, or if he left back for Chicago. He was gorgeous. He was a gentleman. He was so real with me, not like most people in my past. 

I got up from my bed because I had to work today. I've already showered today seeming how it's three in the afternoon, so I don't have to look at my body again. I just have to throw on my make up. Simple.

When I got to the record store, Tony called me back to his office. This can't be good, probably going to cut me or something. Fuck.

"Hey, Tony. How are you?" I asked with a worried expression. God, he better not say something that is going to destroy me.

"I'm doing fine.. how about yourself?" he asked, seeming unfazed and normal. So maybe he's not going to fire me.

"I've been better. So what did you need?" I asked curiously, trying to put away my worried mood. 

"A young man came in today, asking if a Madi was available, and I told him not yet, but she'll be in later. He seemed kind of upset by that, but scribbled something on a post-it note for you. I put it in the drawer by the resister," he said while typing up some email. 

"Oh, okay. Thanks Tony," I said while screaming a little inside my head. What if that was Patrick? It probably was him... I don't talk to anyone else.

I walked over to the drawer and found the note.

"Hey, I came in today hoping that you'd be here because I was going to ask you if you maybe wanted to go to dinner tonight. My friends are all in town and I "need to have a date" (my lame excuse to get you to go on a date with me). My numbers on the back, so just give me a call and let me know.

- Patrick"

Holy shit. Is this fucking real. I turned the note over, and sure enough, his number was on the back. 

I fumbled to get my phone out of my back pocket to call him. Seriously, this was so nice. I haven't been on a date since I moved here a couple years ago. 

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