Single Lady Spy 01 - The End of Me

fuzzy robe on the back of the door and tossed the silk on the wet floor. I dragged it with my foot and left it there, on the floor. If I had learned anything in a decade, it was that men hated wet women's clothing on the floor of the bathroom. Which was odd, since they always seemed to leave everything of theirs on the floor of the bedroom. Either way, it was us women who picked it all up.
    I left the bathroom and the belladonna. I didn’t need it. I had a decade of experience, I hadn’t even harnessed yet.
    "Is there anything to eat?" I asked, almost rudely, when I left the bathroom.
    He was on the phone. He looked unimpressed with my fuzzy white robe and huge blown out hair.
    "Babe…” I clapped my hands at him, “Food?" I said again and mimed eating.
    He looked horrified and shook his head.
    I rolled my eyes and walked to the mini bar that wasn’t so mini . There were stacks of chocolate bars and different types of packaged foods. All the expensive stuff, no Hostess or Nestle. I grabbed a jar of caviar, some crackers, a chocolate bar, and a soda. I purposely left the really good toasts that the caviar was no doubt for. The cheaper crackers would taste better. They always did.
    I ate the chocolate first in huge bites. I was starved. If European men hated anything, it was the way Americans ate. I stuffed my face, like I was at Bob's Big Bar, and opened the can of soda. I drank it back and burped a little. Soda always made me gassy. I covered my mouth and wiped with a napkin. I left the unfinished chocolate and dirty napkin on the small table and walked with the soda and remainder of my meal to the huge couch. I sat on it cross-legged and turned on the TV. Designing Women was on. I smiled and sat back.
    I crunched loudly and left crumbs. The caviar and soda was interesting but I ate, moaning and enjoying.
    He scowled at me, so I returned the look. If he didn’t want to love me, I would just treat him the way I treated my husband.
    A major flaw in the plan of course, was the fact Servario was ridiculously scary, and considerably hotter, than my husband.
    I looked back at the show and forced the crackers down. I started to feel sick. Too much liquor and not enough food was starting to catch up. I put the food on the coffee table and finished my soda. He was about to see something that would turn him off forever.
    I had been bulimic for years as a dancer, when I was a young girl. Our dance teacher taught us we could be hungry or just throw our food up, but we were forbidden to gain weight. I was a foodie so I had chosen to throw up, rather than starve.
    I quit when I was eighteen; my dentist told me he knew what I was doing. It was affecting my enamel. He threatened to tell the commander (aka my father), if I didn’t quit. I quit doing it, enlisted, and was scarfing back enough carbs to kill someone, when I went through basic. I couldn't keep weight on then. I stopped being bulimic then and never looked back. Well, I tried not to. Sometimes when I felt a loss of control in my life, I would succumb to a binge and purge. James had thought I was lactose intolerant. It was a sad secret no one ever knew about, except Dr. Miglio and the other dancers.
    The sad memories brought back flashes of seeing the other dancers later. We were mid-twenties and all of us were still damaged from the effects of Mrs. Smithers. The effects of constantly seeking approval and hurting our bodies, to be what she wanted.
    One girl was still on mass doses of laxatives and ephedrine. Another was anorexic. My favorite, Becca, was three-hundred pounds. If you traced each of our timelines back, you would see the corresponding moment we ended being the person we were supposed to be, and became who she wanted us to be. When the pressure was too much, we snapped and quit but our bad habits stayed with us.
    I had quit dancing before the rest of them, but I still had an ulcer and a lot of cavities. I still had triggers that made me sick—fast food, milkshakes, cheesy pasta, and chocolate eaten while drinking soda.
    I burped again and placed the soda on the table. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes and started my visualizations.
    I was swimming in a cool lake, the water was lapping against me, rocking me. The chilly breeze swept across my face. I could see the rocky shore and hear the laughter of the other kids swimming.
    It was the only memory that made the nausea go away.
    I burped again and shot up from the chair. I leapt the coffee table