I bit my lip nervously. Mike and I were on our way to my clinic for my final weigh in. For nearly six months, I'd been an outpatient and had been struggling to gain the weight I needed. Finally I was there.
"Why are you so tense? It's going to be fine." Mike soothed as we sat down in the waiting room.
"What if I'm not. . .heavy enough?" I asked.
"You're still perfect, especially to me. Just because some doctor says you're too skinny doesn't mean a damn thing. Do you feel happy about the weight you gained?" He asked.
I nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."
"Charley?" Dr. Sweets came out, smiling. "Ready?"
"Come with me." I murmured to Mike. Together we followed the doctor back to the weight room.
"Step on the scale please. How have you been lately?" Sweets asked.
"Pretty good. Great, actually." I blushed, removing my shoes and stepping on the scale.
"So when you first came to us, you were 5'6 and eighty-nine pounds, correct?" Dr. Sweets asked.
I looked down. "Yes."
"And that gave you a BMI of 14.6. You now realize how dangerous that was? To be diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa, you have to have a BMI of 17.5. You were near death when you came in. You realize that, right?" He asked. I nodded, staring at the floor with shame. "Our goal for you was for you to reach a weight of one hundred and thirteen pounds. Do you want to know how much you weigh?"
"Oh, won't you quit teasing me, doc?" I asked.
He laughed. "A hundred and fifteen. Congratulations, Charley. You're discharged. It's been an honour to work with you."
I grinned. "Thank you, doctor. Let's go, Mike." I danced my way out of the office with Mike in tow.
"Congrats, baby girl. Keep up those dance moves." Mike laughed. "Ready to go to the beach?"
"Yeah, yeah. Healthy, healthy, healthy. Girls don't like boys, girls like cars and money!" I sang, getting in the car and taking my clothes off. We were indeed meeting the boys at the beach.
"I like when you're so happy, you take your clothes off. That's the best kind of happy." Mike laughed as he drove. I moved over and kissed him. "You're going to make me crash."
"It'll be fine." I rolled my eyes. "I like when you take your shirt off."
"Are you drunk?" He asked.
"Naw. Just excited." I beamed. "I might start dancing again."
"Let's go." Mike laughed at me again and lifted his shirt off then hoisted me onto his shoulders. "The party's here!"
"I'm the party." I giggled.
"How was the doctor?" Vic asked.
"Healthy, healthy, not underweight." I grinned. "Boom."
"Hey, that's great!" Jaime said.
"I danced." I continued. "Then I sang Good Charlotte and now Mike thinks I'm drunk."
"Yeah, he's an ass." Jaime said.
"Only sometimes." I laughed. "Hey, I'm taller than you guys!"
Mike put me on the ground. "Not anymore."
"I thought we were friends." I said, pretending to be mad.
"Only 'cause you're cute. Are we going to stand here all day or get in the ocean?" He asked. "Let's go."
**
"I really am happy for you. And proud." Mike grinned that evening as we laid on the beach.
"You are seriously the best, you know?" I asked.
"It was hard for you, wasn't it? Hearing the doctor talk about when you were so sick?" He asked.
I thought for a second. "I just. . . It's weird to think that I almost wasn't here today. It's strange to think that I almost starved myself to death. And I never ever thought that I wanted to live any other way. . . but I remember Austin coming over one day, and he said to me, he said 'Charley, what happened to you? You're a ghost with a heartbeat.' And then it really hit me. What I'd become, I mean. I never thought that I could gain weight and be happy about it. Now I am, and it's incredible."
He was quiet for a second. "I'm really glad you got better."
I smiled. "Me too, Mike. Me too."