Rhaya got on with the program a week later. The lanky exercise lady’s book never returned to its place in the shelf, she kept it close by, on her nightstand. Now she had all the tools needed to keep herself in check, using the book as reference material. An extreme urge pressed on her to do it flawlessly, with total concentration. All other aspects of her life would have to wait, like cleaning her room; talking to Gaby, her best friend; thinking about ways to talk to the cute, next door neighbor. Everyday activities gradually merged to a blur in the background.
There was still school though. The young lady had to get homework done every afternoon, the grind she had come to hate, with capital letters. She had painting class on Thursdays, after school, the only outside activity she didn’t loathe. Rhaya loved the aroma of paint at her teacher’s studio; the large sheets of vellum paper they used for tracing; fooling around with acrylics, thinner and oils. Academics on the other hand were a bottomless pit of compost. School didn’t agree with her. Real life was somewhere else, a place apart inside, and now even more, since her mission was set and clear. To change her body.
She continually stopped at the rectangular mirror of her dressing table, and observed the bump of her lower abdomen.
“Must be flat” would say Loud Thought ” is not usual”.
He did had a peculiar way of speaking, like a strict, sour instructor of some kind. I could see his shadow as if in a snowy mist.
“¿Not usual? you mean unusual…” Rhaya told it.
“Look to others” said the Loud Thought.
“¿Other tummys?” She asked, wanting further clarification, but Loud Thought did’t add to. It was pretty obvious to me. Rhaya was that kind of person anyway. The type to observe and listen to stuff that no one payed much attention to. Like how the teacher kept repeating a certain phrase, while the students manage to ignore completely, every single day. How some girls at school managed to look perfectly neat and groomed, while others seemed unable to achieve the look. The fact that some of them talked nonstop, chirping amongst themselves, laughing at nothing, never leaving any space for an awkward silence. Stuff like that.
So, Rhaya took up noticing other people’s abdomens. That kept her focused, and practice made her realise Loud Thought was spot on, he knew what he was talking about.
Her species of potbelly turned out to be not so common as Rhaya had believed. Almost all the girls at school had smooth abdomens, except for those with fuller figures that Loud Thought stated as being “not right”.
Even some of the plumper young ladies at the all-girls school had smoother bellies, their skirts rested flatter on that area.
By Christmas recital, when students were getting ready to go onstage, Rhaya’s heart and mind were far away. She dodged boredom by noticing bodies and all their peculiar differences. Loud Thought was a good spotter also, he pitched in.
“Look her body. Is thick, strong, no good for graceful woman” “Look there, she well balance, face also”.
“Yeah” thought Rhaya. “She’s so lucky” she told herself “she’ll never have to worry, ¡about anything!”
Lucky girls would go on with her lives, unconcerned if the clothes they liked fit them well or not. They’d be able to wear the jeans. Rhaya dreamed of getting into the high waisted, fitted style. Already she had trouble in that department, even before Loud Thought got on her case. She couldn’t use tucked shirts because they made her feel chunky. My assigned girl never wore layered clothes, even though she longed to wear a nice preppy shirt under a standard V-neck sweater, very Academia.
“Oh no way, no way” she would tell herself in front of the fitting room mirror, and that was the end of it. But Loud Thought flowed more words to her mind, once he took a hold.
“I look so chubby, so not feminine at all” she told herself again and again.
But it didn’t take long before Rhaya began loosing pounds, it was noticeable in her whole body. The Potbelly also got smaller but fought steadfastly to stay put. But it wasn’t just that anymore. Now she knew more about flaws in bodies. Hers had many.
“My top should be lighter than my bottom.” she thought, while hunting for some visible progress in her reflection on the mirror. It naturally tended to be more towards the heavy side, though not as extreme as Grandma Henrietta’s and Great Grandma Mariah, who, by the way, never had a problem with their thick waists. But The Exercise Lady insisted it could be done. She transformed her own barrel like body to swan grace.
Loud Thought got particularly insistent on the necessity of having slender arms.
“No, no, too thick” it said one day, as Rhaya looked at her figure, reflected on the elevator mirror, while going up to the dentist’s office.
“Yeah, I think I know where I got them from. Moms’ arms look sort of like sausages, and all that side of the family too” she rationalized in silence.
As Rhaya got thiner, she felt hungry and cold most of the time. Low fat and multi grain didn’t seem to create that much energy. She believed those sensations would fade away after getting used to the regime, but they didn’t, it got harder and harder.
“Its silly to be so hungry” she told herself. “Im having lots of veggies, fruits, beans and rice. It’s supposed to fill you up”. Loud Thought didn’t comment, but I was sure he heard that, he was keeping a close eye on her attitude.
“I must be tough, I must be strong” Rhaya repeated during the day.
Heavy exercise was also part her mission of transformation. Aerobics class every day, as her exercise Guru recommended. One hour of Gina’s class, the toughest instructor at the gym and, whenever possible, if her mom let her stay, an extra hour. My girl put up with shin splints and pulled hamstrings. I got very frustrated, I could not understand why pain didn’t steer her away from the so called mission.
As weeks passed she became very, very, thin. The remains of the baby fat from her face melted away. Her skin clung to her very small bone structure, not meant to sustain much facial musculature to begin with.
Other’s reacted to the transformation, but it was strange nonetheless. Her parents were concerned and confused, walking on eggshells around the issue, not knowing exactly what to do. Rhaya’s eighth grade classmates on the contrary, thought she looked amazing. You see, super thin was in. Being like a model, wearing high waisted jeans with an oversized shirt tucked in, or fastened to the waist with a thick, glitzy belt. The young lady was able to get away with the latest fashion trend, at last. It made her feel accomplished, for a short time that is.
Little did I know she’d want more. It was to be expected though. Ines and Macarena were already pros at vomiting, after gorging down fast food on a Friday night binge. They both started doing it in seventh, it was a shared ritual. Almost everyone else in the classroom knew, but it wasn’t a big deal. Both girls looked good, happy enough, your average happy anyway. Another girl, Ruth, was openly anorexic. She ate potato chips and soda at recess, her only foodstuff for the whole day. Boasting about her condition made her special.
I didn’t want this for Rhaya, obviously. But I realized, soon enough, the girl was impelled by something I could not make out yet, a hidden agenda. The quest for peace of mind, regarding a body that didn’t live up to some hidden standard, was an appearance. Sometimes, the invisible goal seemed as the distant click clack of a train, getting closer, closer, but then the whistle faded to nothing, as if only a dream.
What was left was the force of it, an urge, a command to plod on, barefoot on the tracks.