July 29

July 29

            I would be lying if I said that the transition from Brant’s to home and back again would be easy. Today going back into the same schedule was like putting on a comfortable fitting glove. Yet my head was at home.

            I can remember the sunlight streaming into my lace curtains. I can remember Mom gardening in the front lawn. I would wake a few hours shy of noon and watch her garden. She looked like the Victorian women in the paintings that she hung around the house.

            She always wore a wide brimmed wicker hat and gloves that looked too fancy to be laboring in herb and flower gardens.

            The image of Mom when she gardened was like smoke in my head. I didn’t feel sorrowful, just numb. Maybe her death doesn’t hurt like it used to.

            Janna told me today that I would now go to the doctor on Mondays.

            At 2 I stepped into the hospital portion of Bryant’s and was ushered to the nurse’s station.

            “Miss Howard?” The nurse looked fresh out of school. Her eyes narrowed on to my chart.

            “Yes.” I stood up.

            “Please step on the scale.”

            Normally the nurse would turn me around before letting me get on it, but since this nurse was new she most have thought nothing about it.

            When the numbers showed up I felt my stomach drop. I now weigh 103 pounds.

            The nurse glanced at the scale, smiled and guided me to a room.

            While waiting for Dr. Mendel I cried. I couldn’t believe I have gained so much weight. I was able to stuff my emotions as Dr. Mendel stepped in the room.

            It’s odd that I’ve never talked about him. Dr. Mendel is a slender, tall, dark man. He looked very educated and acted it.

            “How are you Miss Howard?”

            “Okay.” I mumbled.

            He checked my heartbeat and temperature. “Have you been taking your Prozac?”

            “Yes” I swiftly lied.

            “You’re looking better.”

            I smiled feebly. As I left he told me to keep up with the Prozac.

            I left with my head feeling fuzzy. I couldn’t believe I weighted as much as I do.

            I had so much on my mind. I felt tired but overly stimulated. I felt bored but my mind was racing.

            At dinner I picked at my food. Janna didn’t care, or she has kept her eyes on my less either way I was left to cut corners on my meal.

             

Reviews

[Aly Jones]

103? I weigh more than that!

I'm sorry, but that's just really offensive. How old is she? She seems like a teenager. No teenage girl should weigh only 103 pouds.

[PyroKitty24]

I wish I weighed that much >.>

[Tina Kline]

I can understand how awful she feels gaining weight. That's the worse thing and I understand why she'd just pick at her meal, move it around on her plate and eat as little as possible.

[Chris38]

Great to catch up on this.

[Cats Eye]

nice write

[diannesam]

I like the description about the mother. Try not using periods inside, and at the end of dialouge. (eg. "Yes," I swiftly lied.)
But I really like this story! Very good!