Pendulum
by Zoeyjane
It took approximately five weeks off of magical pills for me to revert back to before. Before I was a size two, before I slept every night, before I ate regular meals, before I quit drinking. Now, five days on I’m-So-Happy-Cuz-Today-I-Found-My-Friends, I can’t quite understand how I really made it through before. To present.
***
To drop five pounds, it takes a week of skipping the gym; of days with a single meal, the rest forgotten; of less than five hours of eyes-shut a night. It takes months to gain it back. It takes $30 to buy a pair of size 25 jeans that confirm 0 is anything but nothingness.
***
Two nights of freedom and 203 days down the toilet. But not with a heave, not with regret. Guilt, yes, because, well, isn’t this nothing but another commitment I’ve bailed on? But more so, confusion, because, shouldn’t I have been out of control? Shouldn’t the thirst have overwhelmed me? Why am I sober now, when I gave myself permission not to be. It seems indicative of my extremism, not alcoholism; my need to give things up and label me broken, instead of rock from one end of the spectrum to the other. Maybe my thirst was common and my habits in my younger years were indicative of youth. Possibly, I don’t have a problem, except with admitting that for once, I don’t have a problem.
***
Have you ever sat in the presence of someone with whom you felt such tension, you couldn’t not stare at their lips when they spoke? It’s luxurious, seeing and not having. Picturing, but not realizing. Empowering, really, knowing that if you just… maybe you would… but you don’t, because it’s delicious to not and mentally breathe as if you had. It takes you back to the days before sweaty kisses always led to more.
***
Another experiment, another success. Heels, dress, bed-head. A movie watched alone in the theatre, laughing out loud, despite being surrounded by those with their friends and lovers. I didn’t feel lonely at all. I sauntered home with purpose and light feet, even when I passed by a skunk that could be the omen to brand it all heinous.
***
Before this weekend, I’d only been awake with a boy once when the sun was rising. It was on the top of a mountain and we lay in the back of his hatchback, talking about his travels and my lack thereof. After the sun was up, he kissed me, hours after him wanting to shone in his eyes. He asked my permission and I aloofly affirmed. Sweet, his lips tasted of cherry chap stick.
***
The walk of shame is usually prefaced by drunken nakedness, coexists with a stumble, and is followed by a crash into bed. Instead, after the movie had been over for a while and I’d critiqued everything about it, I walked, sober, determined, in two inch heels, as clean as I went out, ate a banana and considered not sleeping. I slept, and when I woke, I saw Casablanca for the first time.
***
Sometimes, I’m questioned about where this is all going. Wouldn’t I want some fame from writing? Or to have a regular column in a highly-read publication? How popular do I aim to be? The answer always shocks – I just want to be good enough. To have enough, to seek and find, to not go without, but not live with a hunger for more. I don’t want notoriety, I just want my bills paid and to get to do what I’m apparently made to: to slide words on to a screen, from my brain, through my fingertips. The thought of a book contract without a manuscript frightens me; a weekly requirement for a high-flying magazine is torture. I honestly want to keep being unknown. There’s safety in the shadows and no one expects much more than what you give them.
***
Zoë keeps asking me to sing Pokerface to her, in the oddest of places. Not the usual version, but from Glee. We sing it at home, cuddled up together on my office chair, gazing at YouTube, and we belt it out, avoiding the highest notes and workin’ the Marvelous. But in public, my lack of spontaneity and need to not stand out… it doesn’t go so well with Zoë’s whims. On the bus, I once acquiesced and she reprimanded me for my quiet rendition. In Sears today, amongst the puzzles and family bonding time games, she demanded that I sing the chorus, coaching me into it with her own canreemah canreemah no he canreemah pokahfae. She’s gonna be a star some day, and I will die of embarrassment along the way.
***
Today, we both wore summer dresses, sandals and clips in our bangs, and we sashayed down streets, occasionally spinning and skipping. The sun beat down on us, until it didn’t and the rain came, but that didn’t change the fact that Vitamin D in this city is like Ecstasy – it makes you fall in love with everything and everyone.
