Tough Skin

Plastic Smile by KnightsRachel

Plastic Smile by knightsrachel

I stood in the shower, the pulsating showerhead beating against my sore back and shoulders.

I would've never imagined I'd be the type of guy to go on a morning run. I wasn't the sports type, and running never appealed to me as something worth doing in my free time.

But nowadays it seemed like a staple in my scheduled life. Wake up, run, do some online schoolwork, meet with my personal trainer, and play video games. My days never changed, they were all scheduled and regulated. And I liked it that way.

I turned off the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist as I passed through the hallway toward my bedroom.

"Sean?"

I turned to see Carina, the in-house chef, standing at the edge of the hallway, a smile stretched across her face.

"I'm fine, Carina. Thanks."

"Sean!" she called out again.

I let out an annoyed sigh, turning to face her. "What?"

"Logan and Nick are here to see you. Again."

I shook my head. "Not today."

She offered me an unamused glare to which I just shrugged.

"Your mother thinks it would be a good idea-"

"Not. Today." And with that I shut my bedroom door behind me.

I hadn't seen my friends in over half a year. And I was too embarrassed to face them now.

I spent the majority of my middle school in and out of dietician's offices, my parents puzzled over my ever-increasing weight. I tried every diet, every workout plan. But nothing seemed to be working.

Eventually, my parents took me to a therapist as a last resort. After spending thousands of dollars exhausting every other outlet, and getting divorced in the process, my dad had thought that maybe a therapist could understand what they couldn't.

And that's when I was diagnosed with Binge Eating Disorder.

It didn't sound like a real disorder to me, and my mom had a tough time grasping the concept as well.

But the criteria fit. I was a binge eater, I couldn't control my portions and never had the feeling of being full. And even when I did, I enjoyed food too much to stop. Until I was done with the binging episode, that is. And then I was miserable and ashamed. But the cycle would always repeat.

And so my parents shipped me off to fat camp for the summer between my seventh and eighth grade year. There was a more technical term for it, but that's essentially what it was. I lost weight while learning healthy eating habits and creating an eating and exercise plan in the process.

When I got back, my therapist suggested that I take my eighth grade year online due to my tendency to stress eat.

Low self-esteem? Ate my way through that. Obesity risks? Ate my way through that. My parents' divorce? Ate my way through that.

My parents agreed. I'd start high school with an appropriate body weight and a new sense of pride and self-esteem. So my mom hired an in-house chef and my dad educated himself on the disorder, so that they could properly assist me in continuing to lose the weight I'd accumulated.

However, they didn't account for my two best friends to continuously come around. At first, my dad was hesitant. He wanted to give me an adjustment period. My mom took the opposite end of the spectrum, wanting to thrust me back into the real world as soon as possible.