༺ SIXTEEN ༻

Water fasting is just something I have to get used to.

But now, I am. It's quite easy, to be honest.

I haven't eaten since Thursday night and it's Saturday now. All I've done is drinking water and working out.

I know I might be a little too obsessed with just losing those eight pounds, especially after I lied to Mom about Thomas picking me up. I said he brought me to ballet every day so we could drive to work after that, but I know damn well I jog there every morning.

With the car, it takes half an hour to get at Sports. So running... more than an hour. So that means more than seven hundred burned calories.

I weigh myself again. And man, it feels so freaking good to watch the number lower. Today, it feels like bloody heaven because I've got the eight pounds off.

In. A. Week.
I smile to myself, wide and bright. No, I lost the eight pounds in less than a week, which is awesome. Now, I can just relax. I'll still work out and eat healthy, but I don't have to fast anymore.

I'm not sure how I feel about the last sentence, though. Fasting works quicker, but I know the slow way is better.

Better than watching my coffee turn darker and skin paler.

I go downstairs to... well, I wouldn't call it celebrate, but you get the point— to eat something for the first time in three days. I stand in front of the refrigerator for a long time, unsure.

And... I don't know.

It's a hard choice.

"You've been standing there for five bloody minutes," Newt calls from the couch. "This is gonna cost a lot of power. The hell are you doing?"

"Nothing." I close the door of the refrigerator and pick up an apple as the dizziness of turning around this fast hits me.

Disadvantage of the fasting.

❤︎︎

He hasn't said anything.

Why isn't he saying anything?

I bite my lip.

My mind is begging Janson to take a good look. I need someone to tell me my body is nice and be proud of my achievements or something.

I ask myself if I feel like it was all for nothing if no one does that.

And I'm not sure about the answer.

Dancing goes fine, though. We agreed that I will have to dance more hours a week to stay on schedule, but I'll be fine.

"Here." Aris unfolds something plastic. "It'll do you good."

I gratefully take it until I see what it is. "That's really kind," I speak the truth. I'm smiling hard at the gesture, my eyes squinting. "But I don't really enjoy peanuts, Aris."

He pulls a face. "Try it. One bite. I never taste the peanuts."

I don't want to be rude and decline his kind offer. One bite of this peanut bar won't cause any harm, right?

I check to see if Janson isn't looking. After I find out he isn't, I take a bite off the bar.

Bloody disgusting.

I shake my head so fast it hurts and hold up my hand right before I disappear into the main girl's toilet.

I spit the bite out in the toilet, so disgusted that a few horrifying sounds leave my mouth. If it weren't for the empty stomach, I would've thrown up. That's why I'm making the weird ass sounds.

I wipe my mouth and have to resist the urge to scrape all the cells off my tongue to get rid of that peanut taste, then walk out of the cabin only to find three girls staring at me.

Not today. I was just in a good mood!

One chuckles. "I see what you did there."

My face gets red. "I wasn't— I didn't— my friend gave me food I didn't enjoy and I spit it out," I stammer.

"Sure." Another one giggles, and I feel my shoulders tensing up. "You know, there's so many easier ways to do it."

"I really wasn't—" I try to say. "I swear it was the food—"

One girl holds up a package with a grin. "I'd recommend this."

I'm not very comfortable right now. They're all staring at me and we're talking about throwing up, which isn't a nice things either.

But still, I stare at the package.

Laxative pills.

"Oh, no." I chuckle awkwardly, stepping back. "Thank you, really. But eh, I don't— I don't vomit. Trust me."

"So you starve."

I flinch. I don't know why, but I do.

"No," I say. "I don't. Does it look like I do?"

I can't deny I want them to say yes.

She shrugs. "Pale skin, dark bags, thinner hair?"

They don't have to remind me that I look like shit.

But they're not saying anything about my body.

So it's still not good, I assume. They're not telling me I don't have to use those pills because I'm already skinny enough. In fact, they're recommending them.

"I'm not starving myself," I repeat. "I fasted until today and the food my friend gave me was disgusting, so I wasn't throwing up on purpose either."

"Alright, then." The glares they gives me seem judging, then they walk away and I'm left utterly confused, mostly at myself.

❤︎︎

Newt already put down the popcorn and sodas when I sit down on the couch too, ready to watch the movie.

He lies the blanket on top of us as I glance at the clock. It's already eleven PM and everyone else is in bed, because it's Monday tomorrow.

In forty eight hours I might still be at the fair with Thomas.

My face lits up at the thought, and my stomach does a flip from excitement.

"Here." Newt presses the bowl of popcorn in my hands. "I made that myself so you better try it."

I hesitate. Just three days of only drinking water got me hesitating about all the food I eat now, but I promised myself I'd eat after three days, no matter how many calories the food might contain.

I try it. "Hm. It's good."

"Do you think it needs more sugar?"

"I don't think so." I lick my lips. "You already put on a ton."

"Of course. It needs taste." Newt pops one in his mouth too, then scowls when I hand him the bowl.

I pull a face. "What?"

"Eat it."

"I'm not gonna eat all of it."

"Open your mouth." I do it, and Newt throws one popped corn in. "Careful, Rosa. I will give you a handful."

I roll my eyes at the ridiculous act, yet can't help smiling. "It's Rose, Newton." I elbow him in the side. "I'll be telling all your new friends there's a lizard named Newt. Oh, that'll be so— hweai!"

He slammed his hand on my mouth, and it happened to be full of popcorn. "If you do that, I'll tell everyone how hard you started bawling when Dobby died, and how you didn't speak to anyone for another week."

"Don't mention Dobby," I threaten, throwing popcorn onto him once I've swallowed away everything he put in my mouth. "Or I'll start crying again."

Newt's eyes squint from laughing, and he pushes the bowl into my hands so fast more popcorn falls out. "Bet I can fit more in my mouth?"

"We have to watch the movie, not do a popcorn contest."

He gasps. "You're afraid you'll lose!"

"No, I'm not!" I cross my arms. "I always win when it comes to popcorn."

"Alright, then." He leans forward. "Let's see."

Smiling hard because I do always win, I start filling my mouth with the food as Newt does the same, until both of our cheeks are filled completely.

My laughs almost make it fall out. "I win!" I manage to say.

"Ywou hwave to ewt it twoo," he says.

I start chewing and so does he, even though he already failed after popcorn fell out of his mouth.

"See? I win." With a big grin, I sit back and pull the blanket further onto my body. The popcorn actually tastes very good, and my stomach starts to grumble when I stare at the bowl that's still quite full.

I take it onto my lap as we stare at the screen.

And I slap Newt's hand away. "Get your own popcorn."

"This is the popcorn I made!" He peeps. "Unfair."

"You told me to eat it." I make sure the bowl is out of his reach. "And I don't need your help with it. You can eat the chips."

Eventually, he smiles. "Fine. I'll eat the chips. Which taste way better than homemade popcorn anyway."

"Not true." I scowl at him. "Wait, let me try."

A few seconds later, "Okay, we'll share."

Happily, and totally oblivious to what I'm doing, I watch the movie as I sometimes bicker with Newt about how he's eating the chip I want, et cetera...

When the movie is over, I don't feel so well after all. My stomach hurts. "I think I ate too much," I tell Newt once he wonders why I look like 'I saw a naked owl'.

"Pff." He exhales, shaking his head. "You ate just as much as me, and we always eat this much during a movie without getting sick. Period?"

I know what it is. But I don't tell Newt that.

After a period of fasting, your stomach and digestive system may have adjusted to a reduced capacity. Consuming a large meal all at once can overwhelm your digestive system and lead to discomfort, bloating, and indigestion.

That's what the website about water fasting said, too.

Now, popcorn and chips isn't really a meal, but still.

Newt and I soon agree to go to bed, so as I'm washing my face, I try both not to think too much, and to not look in the mirror too much.

If I do, I'm thinking about food again and I just want a moment where I'm not thinking about it.

Unfortunately, I'm forced to think about it when I feel something bubbling up in my throat just as my stomach makes a painful twist.

I run over to the toilet with a gasp before every single piece of popcorn and chips is in there.

My hands grip around the seat at the sight, and I'm ready to vomit again because of it, but there's not much to throw up. I make some sounds, gasping between them, and then wash my face and hands and flush the toilet.

Tears stand in my eyes when I look in the mirror for a second. I can no longer describe my own feelings. It's so hard.

I don't want to fast again because I love food, but I don't want to suck at performing and don't want to look bad. I don't want to skip big meals, but I also don't want to gain weight. I want to eat the right amount, but it's either too much or too less.

I don't know what I want.

I just don't want to think about it any of it, so I finish getting ready for bed and walk over to my window.

There's a tiny spark of happiness when I see a glimpse of Thomas closing his curtain right before I do, too.

Maybe that's it. If I don't want to think about food, I'll think about Thomas as distraction.

Not in a creepy way, but you know. He's... well, a lot of things that'll distract me from food.

Kind, funny, smart, charming, attractive— can I say that? I don't know. I thought he was beautiful before, so I don't think it's bad to call him attractive either. I'm allowed to find him attractive! Besides, no one will know if I keep the thought to myself.

Or do I have to call him a bella boy? Nah, right? That's too cheesy for me to say.

I groan in my pillow. Thinking about Thomas is very distracting but also very annoying because that boy does things to my mind that aren't exactly calming.