She got up and took a scale out of the cupboard under her window. It was a little digital thing like Mom had, which made me a little less worried about stepping on the thing.
When I stood on it, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I took off my glasses and cleaned them on the bottom of my shirt, then looked again.
I’d lost twenty-three pounds.
I hadn’t weighed that little since middle school.
“Wow.” I couldn’t help saying it. “I didn’t realize I’d lost that much.”
“How much have you lost?” Lorraine went back to her desk and wrote something in my folder. “I need to write down today’s weight so I can remember next week.”
“Do you have to write down how much I lost?” For some reason, I had the feeling she wouldn’t think so much weight loss in a month was a good thing.
“I won’t if you don’t want me to.”
I didn’t entirely believe her, but she was a counselor. They probably weren’t allowed to lie. “Twenty-three pounds.”
She closed the folder without writing anything else. “And how long have you been losing weight?”
“A few weeks. Like four or five.”
“That’s a pretty substantial amount to lose in that time.” She put the scale back in the cupboard. “How do you feel about it?”
“I think I still need to lose more.” She would probably assume that meant my parents were right about me having some kind of eating disorder or something, but I didn’t see the point in lying to her, especially when she hadn’t lied to me. “I mean, my clothes fit differently. I had to get rid of some things because they were too big, and some of the stuff my girlfriend gave me fits a lot better now.”
“So you have noticed the weight loss in ways other than what the scale says.”
She sat down again and motioned for me to do the same, which I did. “Are you still having headaches and dizzy spells?” she asked.
“Sometimes.” I didn’t really want to admit it. She would almost definitely use that as a reason I should start eating more.
“That may mean you aren’t giving your body enough fuel.”
Which was just another way of saying what I’d figured she would say. I shrugged again. “Maybe. I’ve been eating a little more. Like, instead of only having an apple for lunch today, I had part of a piece of cheese pizza too.”
“That’s good.” She wrote something on the legal pad. “I’d like you to do something for me.”
“What?” I wasn’t making any promises until I knew for sure what I was getting into.
“Keep a food diary.” She went over to the cupboard again. “I have several small notebooks in here. They’d probably fit in your purse. You can take whichever one you want. I’d like you to write down everything you eat between today and the next time I see you.”
I clenched my teeth. She had no right to ask me to do anything like that. She just wanted an excuse to make it seem like I was as messed up as my parents said.
But if I refused, she would probably tell my parents I wasn’t cooperating, which wouldn’t be any better.