Weightless

by Kandi Steiner

“Love this show,” Dale said, sitting casually on the arm of our dark brown leather sectional. I pulled my legs up to my chest so Mom could sit down next to him. “Hated the ending, but still.”

Talking about Lost... I'm with you, dude.

I hated being looked at, I hated being judged, and I felt both happening from the two people I trusted and loved most.

I had always been the “big girl”, and up until that point, I had never really thought to feel ashamed about it.

grabbed the jar of fat-free peanut butter

Wtf is the point? Yuck

That’s how Rhodes had explained it — a lifestyle. He kept telling me that I wasn’t on a diet and I wasn’t on some get-skinny-quick fix, either.

If the goal is weight loss, call it anything you want... But it's still a damn diet. I hope this book turns around from the standard barely fat girl loses weight to become pretty dribble but I'm not holding my breath.

“You know you’re beautiful, don’t you, Natalie?” I rolled my eyes and thought about throwing a celery stick at him, but refrained. Before I could say anything, he set his bottle down on the counter and crossed his arms. “I mean it. You’re a gorgeous girl. Mason is an idiot and he should have realized that by now, regardless of the trainer.”

Yes, because being beautiful is all that is important if you're female

After forty-five minutes on the treadmill changing the incline and speed every three minutes, I was drenched and on the verge of passing out.

Note to the class: THIS ISN'T HEALTHY AND SHOULDN'T BE CELEBRATED!

Almost as if he knew I was fighting something, Rhodes pushed me harder than he had the entire week before. He made me do more reps when I thought I was done, yelled for me to run faster when I slowed down even the slightest, and got in my face when I murmured that I couldn’t do another set. He knew I was perturbed, but he didn’t ask me about it. He made me work through it. And that just pissed me off more. When two hours had passed and he told me to get on the Stairmaster, I’d had enough. I tried to push through it, but two minutes in I felt my breakfast threatening to make a second appearance. “I’m done,” I said, gasping for air as I hit the stop button on the machine. The stairs halted and I rested on the top one, laying my head on my slick forearm as I stared down at my sneakers. Suddenly, Rhodes’ hands gripped the bar and he lowered his eyes to mine. His jaw was so square, so set — just having his face inches from mine made me uncomfortable. When he spoke, his voice low but firm, a chill ran down my neck. “No you’re not.” “Yes.” I lifted my head, wiping the sweat dripping from my forehead with my towel. “I am.” “Stop quitting. Tell your mind to get out of the way so your body can work.” “I have been working!” I yelled. I was surprised at the level the words left me, but I wasn’t sorry. I was exhausted. I was pissed. And I was officially at my limit. “And you’re still working. You’re not done. Let’s go.” He pressed the green button and bumped the speed up to six, forcin...

Oh, it just gets worse. If your trainer tries this shit in real life.... GET A NEW TRAINER.

“I CAN’T DO THIS!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, my chest heaving as I dropped down to the ground from the steps. There were people staring at us then, but I didn’t care. I stepped right up to Rhodes, putting me chest-to-chest with him. I felt intimidated, but I didn’t dare let it show. “All you do is scream at me and push me and I feel like nothing is happening other than me feeling like I want to die every night when I leave here. You never let me breathe, you never smile, you never talk to me, and last night you pretended like you didn’t even know who I was. I don’t know if you’re ashamed to be seen around me or what but I’m not putting up with it. You may be my trainer, Rhodes, but that doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole.”

Oh, good, a hint of spine

“I’m proud of her, I just hope she can stick to it. You and I both know the kids in college won’t be as kind as the kids here in Poxton Beach. No one knows who she is or who her father is there. They’ll judge her based on her looks. I think she sees that, too. I’m just glad she’s finally doing something about it.”

Natalie is supposed to be a size 14. The average woman is bigger than her. I'm not claiming women this size don't get ridiculed. I'm just pointing this out because I was a 300 lb teen and reading shit like this did not help my eating disorder issues. I cringe thinking of those reading this who accept this treatment as okay.

It was the first time in my life I fully admitted to myself that I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t happy with who I was. Or how I looked. Or how I felt. Ever since I could remember, I depended on food for everything — comfort, celebration, mourning. And now that I had finally started to take control and do something about it, I didn’t feel support from anyone around me — save for Willow, who would likely be gone in just a few weeks. Even my trainer didn’t believe in me. It was like they all looked at me with pity in their eyes. Poor Natalie Poxton. But I didn’t want to be that girl anymore. If my life was to be a story, I wanted to take control of the pen. I wanted to change the paper, crumple up what had been written so far and start over. I just hoped I could actually do it. I wasn’t sure if I was still crying when the sun started to set, only that I didn’t care anymore. I let myself break as I shot the pink and purple streaks across the Carolina sky. I knew right then and there, on a warm Sunday evening with my feet sinking into the sand at the edge of the ocean, that this summer would be the hardest of my life. It would either change me for the better or shatter me completely. But maybe I needed to break, to fully fall to pieces, before I could ever truly be whole.

Thinness won't make you whole. Wasting your life trying to be smaller won't bring you joy. Acceptance can. Let's hope Natalie gets there. Somehow, I don't see it going that way.

Just like I’d prove Mason wrong, and he’d realize giving me up was a mistake. Then, I’d be back under his arm, under his sheets on rainy Sundays — back where I belonged.

Yeah, work yourself sick, risk an eating disorder, all to get back the guy who broke your heart and let his new girlfriend fat shame you.

“Down eleven pounds,” he said and my eyes shot open. “Nice job.” I stared at the number on the digital screen, my mouth hanging open. No. Way.

At her size, in one week, this should be a red flag warning.

They were judging the cornbread competition, against my mother’s will, I’m sure. She hated eating any kind of carb — she preferred to drink them.

“Heard you were training at the club,” he said as he pulled back. “That’s awesome.” Shay scoffed. “Waste of money, if you ask me. No amount of workouts can make up for eating your weight in fried food and Twinkies.”

Yes, because every "fat" person (and Natalie isn't one) must eat their weight in fried food. Sure. That's how it works.

I had avoided eating all night, trying to stick to the meal plan Rhodes had prescribed, but the drunchies were catching up to me. When the gang started to head toward the Ferris wheel, I told Willow I had to pee and snuck away into the bathroom to eat the protein bar I’d packed in my purse. It felt a little weird eating in the bathroom stall, but it was better than doing it in front of Shay. I could only imagine the remarks she’d have for me eating a protein bar.

Oh good... A night of drinking on an empty stomach

I rode on the back of Rhodes’ bike to his house, since Willow drove us to the fair and I didn’t have the Rover.

Oh and you're drunk?

“You were drinking tonight.” It wasn’t a question, but I felt like I was being reprimanded. “I needed to drink, Rhodes.” He paused, switching to my left foot. “I get that, but alcohol isn’t going to help you reach your goal,” he said sternly. “I’m not saying you can’t ever drink, but it shouldn’t be often. And when you do, try drinking the low-calorie vodka and water. It doesn’t taste as good, but it still works the same and it won’t crush your nutrition for the day.”

I needed to drink because I've been convinced eating is a bad coping mechanism, even though my body needs food and doesn't ever need alcohol.

“Why did you need to drink tonight? What happened?” A pain shot through my stomach and I pulled my legs into me instinctively. Rhodes didn’t try to pull me back. He let me retreat, pulling his right ankle up to rest on his left knee as he waited for me to explain. “Well, my ex’s new girlfriend basically told me that I don’t belong anymore and that none of my friends even care about me, nor have they ever cared about me before. I’m the ‘rich fat girl,’” I word-vomited. “Her words, not mine. Though I can’t really argue her point.”

Uh but you were already drunk by then...

“Why? Because I’m the only one who’s actually fat?” I whispered. I was certainly more overweight than those other women I’d seen him with. I waited for him to scold me, or roll his eyes, or sigh, but he just watched me. He studied me. And then, his eyes softened. “You’re not, Natalie. You,” he paused, lifting his hat to run his hands through his hair before pulling it back on again. “You’re weightless. The world hasn’t touched you yet. You’re not heavy with the weight of pain, and guilt, and selfishness.” He shook his head, biting his lower lip in that same way that made my skin heat just moments before. “You’re light. Don’t ever lose that. Don’t let the world weigh you down like them.” He shifted, looking away. “Like me.”

But it was worth it when I weighed in on Sunday. I had lost another eight pounds, which meant I was already down nineteen pounds in just two weeks.

This is insane. This is not healthy. Don't try this at home.

I still craved sweets and sodium-packed easy meals, of course, but it was easier to fight off those cravings when I knew how hard I had to work to get that same number of calories in that chocolate bar to show up on my watch. The watch had become an obsession for me. I loved seeing my heart rate sky rocket when I was working hard and the “calories burned” number climb

Yep, obsession sounds right

Where my body was making progress, my mind seemed to be falling deeper and deeper into a confusing pit of feelings. I wanted to decipher them, but I kept my focus on training and eating right. Thoughts and feelings could wait.

This is called eating disorder behavior

I wanted to work out every ounce of anger, pain, and sadness I had inside me. And at that moment, I had enough to work for hours. So we did. Every time Rhodes tried to end the training session, I begged him for more. I was exhausted, I threw up, my legs and arms were cramping but I didn’t stop. Every drop of sweat seemed to take a tiny ounce of my frustration with it as it rolled off the tip of my nose. When I worked my body, my mind was silent — and that’s exactly what I wanted.

Working out until you puke is no healthier than binge eating. It's not a morally superior option.

“I feel like I’m failing.” Rhodes pinched the bridge of his nose. “Natalie, you’ve lost twenty-six pounds. In just over a month. Trust me, you’re fine.”

She needs help and not the kind you're giving her

Plus, I really did want to look good for Willow’s party. It would be the first time Mason and everyone else would see me since the fair, and I was anxious to see their reactions. Nervous, but curious, still. It wasn’t that I wanted Mason back anymore, because I didn’t, but I still wanted him to see that I was doing it, I was changing my lifestyle — for me, not for him.

Ugh lifestyle changes don't have to involve self abuse and developing new eating disorder behaviors

“You know what, Shay? This is my town. These are my friends, this is my best friend’s party, and you’re only here because you took the sloppy seconds of my ex-boyfriend and thought that made you one of us. Well guess what? It doesn’t.” I could feel the same quietness that surrounded me when I first entered the party creeping up again. Everyone was watching us. “I’m still trying to figure out where Mason’s lapse in judgement came from when he decided it’d be a good idea to date you, but since you have to be here until he wises up and realizes he can do better, maybe you could stop obsessing over how I look and what I wear and worry about your own damn self?”

Nice one, Natalie.

After a minute of silence, Mason crookedly smiled, shaking his head. “Natalie, you look incredible.” My cheeks heated and I looked down at my red heels, crossing my ankles. “Thanks, Mase.” “I’m really sorry for what happened with Shay.” “It’s fine. I handled it.” At that, Mason laughed. “Yeah. So I heard.” Feeling more comfortable, he took the empty seat on the bed next to me. “I can’t remember you ever standing up for yourself like that, Natalie.” I shrugged. “Well, I never felt strong enough to do it before now.”

Why do girls in books always have to literally shrink in order to find their voice?

“We only have so much time to be, Natalie. So be wild, be crazy, be spontaneous, and be passionate. Never be sorry. And when someone tells you you’ll regret your choice later, be confident in the fact that you won’t.”

And eat the damn corn dog, too

“I’m not looking at the suit,” he murmured, trailing his fingers across my sensitive skin before finding my eyes with his own. “Your confidence is the sexiest thing you have on right now.”

*eyeroll*

The girl gazing up at me from the river might have been thirty pounds lighter than the girl who entered that summer, but she was also thirty times stronger. She was smarter, more experienced — and she had no limits.

And if she gains the weight back, what then?

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to a size eight. I guess I have you to thank for that.”

Ofc she has to stay thin

I was beginning to realize that weight really wasn’t a bad thing, after all.

I wish I believed you