Rosalie sat in front of the toilet. There was chocolate all over face. What the hell is wrong with me? she thought to herself. She pushed her fingers to the back of her throat and managed a gag. Tears ran down her eyes from it. She didn’t have the ability to keep going. She couldn’t make the chocolate come back up.
She stood and looked at herself in the mirror. Her weight was starting to show. The leotard she wore while instructing the step class at her gym was stretching too tight. She wasn’t going to be able to get any new clients at this rate and she was worried she’d lose her current clients. No one wanted to take weight loss advice from a fat woman. She had just lost all control. She couldn’t stop eating - and worse, she couldn’t stop eating crap. McDonald’s, candy, salty snacks. She had tried to replace it with carrots but she couldn’t stand the taste.
“Maybe you’re pregnant,” her mother had said to her. She told her that Bob left two months ago. She would know by now if she were pregnant.
After her mother had insisted that the period she got after Bob left could be what is called ‘implantation bleeding’, she bought a pregnancy test. It was negative. There was no excuse for herself. She cried herself to sleep at night the last month. She had already lost the love of her life, now she was going to lose her career. Maybe if Bob had just stayed, maybe she’d be able to stop eating.
She called him. She had to try.
“What do you want, Rosalie?” he asked, impatience in his voice.
“Bob, I need you back,” she said. “I am a mess. I...I can’t stop eating. I’m gaining so much weight - I’m gonna lose all my clients.”
“You really should have thought about that when you cheated on me,” he said. There was no kindness in his voice.
“I know, I know. I wish I could take it back. I really do. I need you. I always needed you. I love you.”
“You know, I put you through fucking college. You decided to go for a nutrition and fitness degree - the degree of jocks. You should have gone for a better degree, but, nooo, your vanity wouldn’t let you.”
“Save it,” he said. “You need to stop calling me. Go call that douchebag - or does he not want you now that you’re fat?”
“I’m not fat!” she shouted.
“I’m not doing this anymore,” Bob said. “Goodbye, Rosalie.”
He hung up on her. Rosalie ran to the bathroom again. This time her stomach would empty for her without her help. She was so distraught her stomach was flipping. I wish I was pregnant, she thought. At least there’d be an excuse - and Bob, he’d...he’d come back.