Saturday, April 10, 2010

The House.

I used to come here to rest, now even rest is unavailable to me.

I am sitting in the dining part of a kitchen in a house ever few will ever be wealthy enough to afford, surrounded on three sides but long windows leading out to a patio, a garden and then a forest. Two of four animals lay at my feet, one Westie and one cat. For once, they aren't arguing.

The house can only be covered by the salary of two specialty doctors, it is out in the country side, but not too far from civilization and five star restaurants. I feel as though even the infamous Beverly Hills could not be so beautiful. I had been coming here once or twice a year ever since I was 12. My last trips however, were anything but pleasant.

The silence screamed at me. I no longer found peace within these walls, it was too quiet. It was the year anniversary of my first love and I had broken up with her the morning of. She too, like the house, was too quiet. I felt like the closest thing to a whore afterwords, our relationship had become a sort of abusive codependency on both ends and I felt that by breaking up I'd be able to find myself again. But I get off track. I hated my body that night, hated it with a passion, hated it as much as I hated the soul inside; I was already a vegetarian at that point in my life, but I grabbed two chops of lamb off the rack and devoured them, hoping that the meat would cause me to be sick. That was almost three years ago.

Now, it's more than silence that pulls at me, but the people in the house. They only mean the best, I know it. But allow me to explain.

Last night, we went out to a fine restaurant. They already knew I was vegan, but the disapproval was clear on their faces. "Are you taking Calcium?" They ask me. Out of all vitamins and minerals, calcium was the only one I had been forgetting. I realized as such at that instant and said "No, but I should start." My Dad butted in and said he's been telling me to do so for a long, long time. Which isn't true. The last time he told me was way back in October. They continued. Three adults, two who were doctors, bouncing off one another, not giving me a chance to defend myself, they had finally stopped. One made an off hand comment on how every fish eats minnows and that they were made to be eaten, but it was quickly brushed off.

We ate. I took comfort in the fact that my father was a vegetarian as well and he could at least help me in my defense (what am I, 10?) if I was attacked again. But my father salivated when one doctor said she was going to make lamb the next night and said he would have some. For some reason, I felt a twinge of pain.

We ate more. And then Calcium was brought up again. I told them we had already covered this topic and thank you, but no, when one doctor said "Honey, her thyroids are swollen." His wife brushed my hair back and sure enough, she agreed. I do not know what thyroids are and when I tried to ask, the three of them all started bouncing things off one another again, I only catch tidbits of what each one is saying when my dad looks me straight in the eyes and says "You need to see a doctor." I don't KNOW what the treatment for thyroids is! My first thought is 'operation' - I will NOT have ANYONE operating so close to my vocal chords! They tell me that unless I get it checked out, my high metabolism will go out the window and what a shame for someone as pretty as me.

I excuse myself from the table. I know I am beautiful. No, really, I know it. I a vain and I will admit to this. I love my beauty. I will look at pictures of myself as a child for hours and be amazed by how gorgeous I was even back then. I know that when I want to be, I can be super model beauty - I've always taken pride in the fact that I've never seen anyone on TV that looked even a little but like me. I am a unique beauty and for this, I am glad.

Almost everyone tells me that I am too thin - everyone but my family. Especially my father. My dad regulates his calories, always complains that he is too fat, always says "I cant have a bite of chocolate, I've already gone over my calories". He tells me I should watch my own as well. It's come to me asking him if I'm thin yet and he grabs my stomach and says "You have about 7 pounds to go." I'm already 5 pounds under the minimum weight.

I know. "Sarah, he NEEDS to get over himself. You're fine, he's just taking his low self esteem out on you." But when I look in the mirror, I see a pudge of stomach, I don't concave like most beautiful women do. And by concave, I mean just look at EA and her crumpets. I mean, come ON. I know they're all professional dancers, but still... I've been doing abs lately. My aunt has warned me that she used to have my body type before she became obese. I'm narcissistic. I would like to stay tiny.

With this in mind, know that right now, my body is all I have going for me. If I wasn't too prideful, I'd become bulimic in a heart beat and sell my body to the first modeling company that would take me in. Like I've said before, I know I could become famous in that field. I'm unique. I was sitting at a table with a group of adults telling me that my bones were going to crumble and my figure would eventually inflate and if THAT isn't enough to make me want to kill myself...

They're glad I'm going back to college. I wish they'd drop the topic. They keep trying to get me to change my major, suggest things I've never even thought about saying I had a natural talent for it. I tell them perhaps I'll take it up as a hobby. The way their eyes meet mine is as effective as them saying 'Sarah, your MUSIC should be a hobby. Don't try to make a career out of it...' Funny. The last person to believe in me was a random eccentric woman named Maggie that I once sat next to on an Airplane. Even I don't believe in myself anymore.

Which is what brings me here this morning. I don't know why I'm in this house, with these animals at my feet. They create their own assumptions as to why I left college two months in last October. I don't think trying to tell them that I tried to kill myself would go down too well. They'd tell my dad to get me medication. I'm already trying to get fucking medication. I wish the world would butt out.

Everyone speaks cynically about the future of health care, gas, costs...

It makes me wonder why I'm just sitting here waiting for it.

No comments:

Post a Comment