I can't even begin to describe the difference in how I felt one month ago and how I felt last week, especially towards the end of it. Night and day. Physically, it was like my internal body and mind did a one-eighty. In fact, I wish a circle had more degrees in it because "one-eighty" doesn't sound like a large enough descriptor of the change that took place in terms of my energy, my mood, my comfort, and the amount of joy that I was able to take in even the smallest of things.
Every day was so full of life and laughter, even on boring rainy days or that one day my mom decided to pick a fight with me (nothing major and she got over it in record time). I didn't quite feel at the top of my game as far as my physical capacity to exercise or walk long distances, and I feel bad because my ferrets seemed disappointed that I wasn't able to jump around with them for as long or with as much gusto as I have in the past. Instead, we played a new game; namely, "AJ wears loose clothes and curls up into a tiny ball and shakes her head furiously so we can see how many openings we can weasel our way through, how many secret passageways we can find through her oversized t-shirt, and how well we can attack her hair."
It was fun.
I slept a lot, which I actually take as a positive sign. The body makes its best repairs during sleep, but when it senses it's in danger, it doesn't want to shut off. I took several naps and slept through the night while I was visiting, despite my super-hard bed (unintentional side effect of anorexia: EVERYTHING HURTS TO SIT OR LIE DOWN ON. Actually, just make that "everything hurts, period"). I hope my liver was able to do its thing.
I cannot stress enough the sentiment that I believe I bought myself so much glorious time with this break. And saved my family upwards of several medical bills.
Because you're all so interested, I will give you a highlights reel of my relaxing, restorative AJ-cation.
Saturday night I got in very late and went right from the airport to a former flame's house. He's in the military, and will be shipping out for his first tour in Afghanistan very soon (in active combat, no less). It was his last night visiting from base, and the last night we would be able to see each other for quite some time. Given the sacrifice he's about to make (don't get me started on U.S. military personnel or I will seriously turn into a caricature of Amurr'cin pride conservatism and start bawling like Glenn Beck), along with our long history (I cheated on the only man I've ever loved with him), and the fact that he has a body off the cover of Men's Health magazine, I couldn't resist. We fucked furiously, culminating in the most disgusting rug burn of my life. It looked like I had been beaten and is only just now starting to peel (thank you, Neosporin and extra large band-aids). It spans the entirety of my lower spine. It was worth it.
Then I slept. Oh, how I slept.
Sunday I went to the mall with my mom and she bought me a whole bunch of awesome shit on store credit left over from Christmas returns. This prevented me from feeling like a total spoiled brat, since she wasn't spending new money. (That would come later.) My ferrets also got a lot of extra love that day because I hadn't seen them in months.
Monday was my mom's birthday. I made her breakfast in bed (a family tradition) and then we picked up my sister and brother-in-law from the airport. The rest of the day was mostly spent visiting, and my mom requested that for her birthday dinner we have a home-cooked meal. Ironically enough, I'm an insanely good cook/baker, so my sister and I made a lovely vegetarian dinner.
On Tuesday we had another girl's-day-out-at-the-mall by going to get our hair done and shopping after that. Ever since I was in late elementary school, the women in my family have gone to the same salon, only deviating once or twice. We've seen two different stylists there, but for the past several years my mom and I (and usually my sister) have had our hair done by this outrageously hilarious African-American woman-with-an-asterisk. She is a genius. I have never once left her chair anything short of in love with her, my hair, and myself. For clients who sometimes don't know exactly what they want, like my mom, she helps them figure it out and creates a look that completely matches their tastes. For clients who know exactly what they want, like me, she never fails to give them precisely the look they asked for. So I got my cut and colour touched up and went from looking like Kurt Cobain to looking like the love child of Victoria Beckham and Draco Malfoy. And myself. I also got to play my mom's fashion adviser while she shopped for herself and tell her what was "in," which made me feel incredibly trendy. Thank God for the issues of Vogue and Allure that I purchased just before getting on the plane.
In case you were wondering, trends include colour blocking, vibrant colours, menswear, lace, floral patterns, wide-leg trousers, and, oddly enough, feathers. The first three I love and have been doing since I first knew what fashion was, lace I can take or leave, and I can't rock floral patterns and can't stand wide-legs or feathers.
After a night spent with E. and P. introducing me to "Parks and Recreation," everyone woke up quite late on Wednesday and nobody really did anything exciting or eventful until 6:00, when we kids went to the home of E.'s college friend to play this ridiculously convoluted and nerdy board game/RPG. It's called "Arkham Horror." I recommend it if you read H.P. Lovecraft, have enough geeky friends to play with, and enough time on your hands to understand all the complex, labyrinthine rules and how they can be modified by different cards/character traits/circumstances.
Thursday marked exactly a week before my birthday, along with St. Patrick's Day, so Thursday fittingly became AJ's 21st Birthday, Observed. I didn't ask for anything this year because I feel like my parents have already bled money for me over the past lifetime and a half, plus they lather me in shopping trips and hair appointments every time I visit anyway. Being the parents they are, though, I did get a couple small things. E. and P. also gave me an awesome blank notebook,
^ The front
The back
(the side reads, "home of lovely ideas")and "gin and titonic" ice cube molds. Sink one in your drink!
The waitress at the restaurant we went to, unaware that this was a birthday celebration, even brought me a beer when I told her I forgot my wallet! Lovely woman. I have a fake that has never failed me, but my dad's weird about it -- he'll let me order a drink and hope I don't get carded, but he forbids me to use the fake in his presence. Whatever. I ended up enjoying my favourite beer -- a German-imported Hefeweizen. (A wheat beer with a light-medium golden colour but comparatively denser taste.)
My sister's birthday is the 13th of April, so we decided to go ahead and observe her birthday on Friday. We went to these beautiful gardens and an affiliated museum. The weather was glorious, the gardens were glorious, everything was glorious.
It was back to reality on Saturday when I boarded a flight home. I felt like I had just spent time in an entirely different universe; a blissful, fun-loving universe where there are no sophomores, scales, or sad studio apartments. My parents' house was beautiful and full of flowers. Full of life. My studio the size of a walk-in closet? Or smaller? It's more of a cell than anything else. It isn't the size that gets me. It's just that my brain associates everything about it with my eating disorder. Starvation and death. Yaaaaaay. It's come to represent my life: small, cramped, lonely, limited. One room, one focus. Anorexia.
I may have gone on vacation. But today I'm back in every way.
And I ain't moving out any time soon.
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