I knew this because I tracked it every day, sneaking into her bathroom to step onto her digital scale. I would take off all my clothes and drop them in a heap beside the scale. I would close my eyes as the numbers scrambled. I think I kept them closed longer than I needed to, afraid to leave this unknowing. Sometimes, when the number disappointed, as it often did, I would weigh myself again, futilely repositioning my feet as if this could shuffle the mass of my body. But the scale did not change.
