Week 9
I open up my Myspace account and see a new message, I click "okay" to read it.
"I heard Pat didn't want to date you anymore because you're a cow, that's what he even called you today.. I just thought I'd let you know."
* * *
I enter the doctors office and my mom trails in behind me, she has a blank look on her face. I take a deep breath as I sit down in the chair across from the nurse. "Hello, Hillary, what are you here for today?" I open my mouth, about to tell her why and my mom speaks before I have the chance.
* * *
I sit down at my desk, exhausted from the appointment earlier that day. I open up the brochure and look at pictures of girls who have recovered. A tear runs down my cheek as I realize what I'm doing to myself. I slam the brochure down and go put my too-big-for-me pajamas on and get into bed, unable to control my emotions.
* * *
I sit at the lunch table, reminiscing about how happy I used to be. I look around and see all my classmates eating around me and I look down to see a blank tray before me. Tunnel vision sets in and the whole world around me blanks out, all I can think about is how long my next workout will be. The scratch of the intercom comes on "Hillary Craig to the main office please, Hillary Craig to the main office." My heart rate speeds as I wonder what I could have possibly done wrong.
* * *
I now am forced to eat with the nurse during lunchtime, my mom's idea. I open my lunch bag to see what she packed for me today.. PB&J sandwich (trying to get some protein in me), an apple and carrots (eat your fruits and veggies!), two oreo cookies... (what is she thinking??) and last but not least, a bag of lays baked potato chips. What the hell is she trying to do, make me a 200 pound 16 year old?
* * *
I wake up and look at my clock next to my bed, 2 a.m.. I can hardly function my mouth is so dry. I run down the stairs as fast as I can and grab a glass out of the pantry and fill it up with water. I slowly make my way back up stairs, my heart already racing from going down them to fast. Before I make it back into my room, I hear a whimpering coming from my moms room, she's crying.
* * *
I ask my mom for lunch money a few days later, a surprised look comes across her face followed by confusion. "What are you going to spend the money on? Obviously not food." I take a deep breath and thinking about the night before and hearing her crying, "yes I am mom, I want to get better." She asks no more questions and reaches into her pocket book and hands me a ten, turns around and walks out the door.
* * *
"I don't know how you did it, Hillary. You are one of the few girls I have had come in here and fully recovered.. it's very impressive and I'm glad you have." I look over to my mom and she is sitting across from me with a tear in her eye and a little smile showing.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Week 8
The shadows of the trees rest upon the pavement of the road as I drove over it. Meghan is in my passenger seat, singing along to our favorite country songs. It is my favorite road to take drives on, the stream winds and twists just like the road. I pull over onto a gravel parking lot and turn the car off. We both grab our cameras to take pictures and put our shades on to try and block the glare of the sun. I shut the door behind me and throw my keys next to my tire, leaving them there instead of carrying them. Meghan runs ahead of me to take pictures of the stream, sending them to her husband over in Afghanistan. "Hillary! Smile!" I turn quickly to respond to her statement and put on my best-fake smile. "Don't send that to Facebook, I look horrible today" I tell her after she takes it, (I hate when people do that)!
I run along the side of the stream to get a picture of the trees with the sun behind it, a perfect, almost-spring kind of day. Only in Maine do people go outside when it's 40 degrees out and call it "warm." I kneel down close to the ground and lay my camera on a near by rock, these are my favorite kind of pictures to take. I take a few different snap shots in nearby locations as Meghan does the same. We both meet back up by the picnic table, sitting down to take in the scenery. She tells me about her troubles with her roommate and how she is very close to kicking him out, I try and give her the best advice I have.. "well maybe you should tell him that you aren't going to put up with much more." She responds, "I've already done that." I'm at a loss of words, my mind in a whole other world. I slowly and discretely shake my head to get my thoughts together, "want to head back to Brewer and get something to eat" I ask, Meghan nods her head, we both have hardly ate anything all day long. We pick up our cameras off the table and head back over to my car. The ground is soft and mushy from all the melted snow, our shoes are soaked by the time we reach the gravel again. "Uh, Hill.." I turn around, Meghan hands me my sunglasses I forgot to grab off the seat of the table, "oh crap! It's a good thing I got you." We both smile at each other and open the doors to my car.
The shadows of the trees rest upon the pavement of the road as I drove over it. Meghan is in my passenger seat, singing along to our favorite country songs. It is my favorite road to take drives on, the stream winds and twists just like the road. I pull over onto a gravel parking lot and turn the car off. We both grab our cameras to take pictures and put our shades on to try and block the glare of the sun. I shut the door behind me and throw my keys next to my tire, leaving them there instead of carrying them. Meghan runs ahead of me to take pictures of the stream, sending them to her husband over in Afghanistan. "Hillary! Smile!" I turn quickly to respond to her statement and put on my best-fake smile. "Don't send that to Facebook, I look horrible today" I tell her after she takes it, (I hate when people do that)!
I run along the side of the stream to get a picture of the trees with the sun behind it, a perfect, almost-spring kind of day. Only in Maine do people go outside when it's 40 degrees out and call it "warm." I kneel down close to the ground and lay my camera on a near by rock, these are my favorite kind of pictures to take. I take a few different snap shots in nearby locations as Meghan does the same. We both meet back up by the picnic table, sitting down to take in the scenery. She tells me about her troubles with her roommate and how she is very close to kicking him out, I try and give her the best advice I have.. "well maybe you should tell him that you aren't going to put up with much more." She responds, "I've already done that." I'm at a loss of words, my mind in a whole other world. I slowly and discretely shake my head to get my thoughts together, "want to head back to Brewer and get something to eat" I ask, Meghan nods her head, we both have hardly ate anything all day long. We pick up our cameras off the table and head back over to my car. The ground is soft and mushy from all the melted snow, our shoes are soaked by the time we reach the gravel again. "Uh, Hill.." I turn around, Meghan hands me my sunglasses I forgot to grab off the seat of the table, "oh crap! It's a good thing I got you." We both smile at each other and open the doors to my car.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Week 7
Her oversized brimmed glasses rest upon her nose and hook around her ears. Although growing older creates more flaws and wrinkles in the skin, she is still the most beautiful person I know. Her teeth (dentures) are perfectly white, although they are not her natural teeth, they look like they are. She has a smile that is one of the most genuine things I have ever seen, lighting up her face and eyes in the process. We sit at the table, eating our dinner, something we do almost every other night. I almost always expect her to be in her usual white turtle-neck with her Carhartt jeans. She always has her cross necklace on along with two bracelets and a couple rings on both hands, she likes to think of herself as "fancy." She is a healthy woman, physically and mentally. She putters around the house all day long, with a hand cloth draped over her shoulder to use while she bakes. Her socks are the usual white, never any other color.. I bought her bright colored sox for Christmas one time but she never seemed to take a liking to them. She is around 5'6 or maybe even 5'5, shrinking with age, I now seem to tower over her whenever I go to give her a hug. Her hair is about two or three inches long, in curls all around her head. The shades of white, gray and a little bit of blonde shine under the light. She never tries to look younger then she is, she accepts her age humbly, even though at heart she is about 60 years younger. Many times, I catch her examining her nails under the light, criticizing the way they look. When she was younger, she had a habit of always having fake nails which eventually ruined her real ones, she still tries to strengthen everyday.
Her passion for loving her family and confidence shines through her, for she knows she is beautiful. On the weekends, she works at a near by nursing home, taking care of older patients but still calling them "her little chickadees." Her love for other people is outstanding and she is the least critical person I know.
I will never meet anyone quite like my Nana, for she is one of a kind.
Her oversized brimmed glasses rest upon her nose and hook around her ears. Although growing older creates more flaws and wrinkles in the skin, she is still the most beautiful person I know. Her teeth (dentures) are perfectly white, although they are not her natural teeth, they look like they are. She has a smile that is one of the most genuine things I have ever seen, lighting up her face and eyes in the process. We sit at the table, eating our dinner, something we do almost every other night. I almost always expect her to be in her usual white turtle-neck with her Carhartt jeans. She always has her cross necklace on along with two bracelets and a couple rings on both hands, she likes to think of herself as "fancy." She is a healthy woman, physically and mentally. She putters around the house all day long, with a hand cloth draped over her shoulder to use while she bakes. Her socks are the usual white, never any other color.. I bought her bright colored sox for Christmas one time but she never seemed to take a liking to them. She is around 5'6 or maybe even 5'5, shrinking with age, I now seem to tower over her whenever I go to give her a hug. Her hair is about two or three inches long, in curls all around her head. The shades of white, gray and a little bit of blonde shine under the light. She never tries to look younger then she is, she accepts her age humbly, even though at heart she is about 60 years younger. Many times, I catch her examining her nails under the light, criticizing the way they look. When she was younger, she had a habit of always having fake nails which eventually ruined her real ones, she still tries to strengthen everyday.
Her passion for loving her family and confidence shines through her, for she knows she is beautiful. On the weekends, she works at a near by nursing home, taking care of older patients but still calling them "her little chickadees." Her love for other people is outstanding and she is the least critical person I know.
I will never meet anyone quite like my Nana, for she is one of a kind.
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