Excerpt from "The Me I See"
My stomach turns sour as I stare at my dad’s most recent family photo. I love my dad and Lily—Connie is okay—but the picture makes me feel like an outsider. I feel like I’m looking at one of those generic photos that get placed inside of a frame at the store, the ones where the families look so happy. You know they are just models posing as a real family, but still, you can’t help but wish you were one of them. That’s how perfect my dad’s family looks.
Suddenly, I feel even more self-conscious about my performance at the cheer squad tryouts. Not only would Kelsie have been able to perform the cheer routine, by my little half-sister probably could have, too. It also bothers me that Lily seems to have the same thin, waif-like body type as Kelsie. How is that even possible? Why am I the only one to inherit my dad’s stocky “German genes,” as my mom so often puts it? I know looks aren’t important, yet the disappointment I feel over my own appearance is overwhelming.
Looking more at the picture, I feel the pork loin I had for dinner making its way back up my throat. I jump up and run to the bathroom. When I get there, I immediately crouch down in front of the toilet, but nothing comes out. I rest my forehead on the rim of the seat and swallow repeatedly as acid burns my esophagus.
Would I feel any better if I did throw up?
I stand and come face to face with myself in the cabinet mirror above the toilet. “Maybe it would feel better,” I whisper to myself.
I drop down to my knees and slowly insert a finger into my throat. I gag a little, but nothing comes up. So I try again, only this time I insert my finger so far that my teeth dig into my knuckles. Within seconds, the barely digested dinner that had been in my stomach is now floating in the toilet.
At first, I am shocked. What have I done? I quickly flush the toilet and rinse my mouth out with water. Then I brush my teeth to erase any remaining evidence of what just happened. It isn’t until I glance at myself in the mirror, mouth full of foamy toothpaste, that I realize I feel better—much better.
In fact, I feel so much better that I crawl into bed and drift off to sleep effortlessly for the first time since Anica and me were caught shoplifting.
Suddenly, I feel even more self-conscious about my performance at the cheer squad tryouts. Not only would Kelsie have been able to perform the cheer routine, by my little half-sister probably could have, too. It also bothers me that Lily seems to have the same thin, waif-like body type as Kelsie. How is that even possible? Why am I the only one to inherit my dad’s stocky “German genes,” as my mom so often puts it? I know looks aren’t important, yet the disappointment I feel over my own appearance is overwhelming.
Looking more at the picture, I feel the pork loin I had for dinner making its way back up my throat. I jump up and run to the bathroom. When I get there, I immediately crouch down in front of the toilet, but nothing comes out. I rest my forehead on the rim of the seat and swallow repeatedly as acid burns my esophagus.
Would I feel any better if I did throw up?
I stand and come face to face with myself in the cabinet mirror above the toilet. “Maybe it would feel better,” I whisper to myself.
I drop down to my knees and slowly insert a finger into my throat. I gag a little, but nothing comes up. So I try again, only this time I insert my finger so far that my teeth dig into my knuckles. Within seconds, the barely digested dinner that had been in my stomach is now floating in the toilet.
At first, I am shocked. What have I done? I quickly flush the toilet and rinse my mouth out with water. Then I brush my teeth to erase any remaining evidence of what just happened. It isn’t until I glance at myself in the mirror, mouth full of foamy toothpaste, that I realize I feel better—much better.
In fact, I feel so much better that I crawl into bed and drift off to sleep effortlessly for the first time since Anica and me were caught shoplifting.
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