ONE

Today's word is ONE.

And for once, today's word comes with a bit of a smile.

I wake up hungry and tired. Finley is crying again. How can I be hungry? I ate so much food yesterday. Well, hungry is always a good sign. It means it wasn't enough. Enough means I'll stay fat forever.

I take too long to get ready before work, pack my food for the day, and skip out on breakfast. What decent person could eat more than two meals a day anyway? I hate breakfast. The first meal always ruins my day. Why ruin it so early?

It's freezing outside. Cloudy and windy. If I could shoot the messenger and blow the weather network's brains out. I am a popsicle. It's hardly what anyone would call summer. I want to crawl back into bed.

My hair is frightful.

I get to work. This camp has more teenagers than the last. They're new to puberty and still stick thin. I tell myself it won't last in order to soothe my jealousy. I force down my lunch. A garden burger and some cherries (300). My green tea pill gives me a queasy jittery feeling in my stomach. I'm getting a cold, but I refuse to accept it. I can't get sick. I need to work.

Camp ends. I have two hours to kill before my shift at the cinema. I'm already downtown so I wander aimlessly. I give myself a mental note. NO MORE SPENDING.

You stupid idiot. You can't spend money and save it at the same time.
I cannot be entrusted with anything.
I ruin everything I touch.

I end up at the shitty downtown mall. There are fewer packs of LGs milling about outside now that they've imposed the new smoking law. What good is loitering if you can't enjoy a nice cigarette?

I refuse to smoke again.
It's dirtier than I am.

Window shopping gets boring quickly. I find myself trying on clothes I refuse to buy (NO MORE SPENDING YOU FUCKING IDIOT). I come across some jean skirts on a sale rack. The first one I grab calls out to me. Pick me.

Size ONE!

There's no way. I put it up to my hips and it looks like it will fit. No, it can't. In the change room I am ecstatic. Size one, with some room for comfort. I stare at myself forever, ignore the pissed off sales lady when I leave without making a purchase.Size one with some room for comfort.

It was a fluke.

It had to be.
The denim was stretchy.

Then I realize...I have a mission! I go to the other stores in the mall and pick out size ones and extra smalls. I stare longingly at the zeros and double zeros, but why suffer the embarrassment?

I slide on a pair of size one dress pants. They fit. Nervously, I lift up my shirt to see the damage. But...nothing.

No fat spilling over the edges. No frat boy beer belly. The first success in a very long time. It felt...good.
And nothing has felt that good in a long time. But it makes me wonder, if size one is the only thing that makes me feel good and size zero and double zero are the only things that I truly strive for, then how in the world am I supposed to get better?

When does the light bulb go off?
The one that shatters my illogical fallacies.

SMASH...

And I'm cured.

I go to the cinema and fake a smile for the customers. I'm exhausted. I need a break.
Work work work. How can I help you, would you like the larger size for fifty cents more, anything else with that, do you have a membership card, shovel popcorn, squirt butter, one more squirt, shovel popcorn, , squirt squirt squirt, bills, change close the till, smile, have a nice day. REPEAT. I am a machine.

My brain is somewhere far away.

SLAM!

I'm back in reality. Two girls are deciding on what pop they want to get with their combo. And I get that...feeling. That eerie feeling that chills you to the bones. When reality hits you a little too hard and you find yourself wondering what the point of going to the cinema is. And what the point of pop is. And what the point of anything is. It's all too bizarre to be true. It's all a waste. We've created too much. When does it all end in one apocalyptic blockbuster-worthy finale?
My head hurts again.

Life scares me.
My brain scares me.

I get home and have some half-assed conversation about the future with a friend on Facebook chat. It feels like I haven't seen her in years. I am retreating. I am putting on my hermit shell for the millionth time.

My social life is closed for business.
And I like it that way.

I am a size one.
And for once, things aren't so bad.
One may be the loneliest number, but I like it that way.

Who needs the extra bulk?