Eating My Feelings (9 page)

Shortly after I finished jumping jacks in my own shit I was told I now needed to do push-ups in my own shit. I looked around and saw that none of the other kids were putting up a fight. Did these kids really want to lose weight? Was I the only one fighting it? My father and stepmother had pounded into my head that I needed to lose weight, so in the spirit of being
a badass kid, I naturally did the opposite of what would make them happy. I also wondered if I was the only one who realized that we were playing in our own crap. The boys to my left and right were determined to do as many push-ups as possible and I saw that determination in their eyes.
Good for them
, I thought. All of these thoughts ran through my head as, after a good two minutes went by, I finally had finished doing a push-up. My face almost wound up in shit, but I managed to hoist myself up and back down in less than two minutes. Sweat was dripping from every inch of my body, but it was record time! It took everything I had in me, but I finished it. One whole push-up.

Kurt could see the excruciating pain that we were all in and decided that we had reached our quota for the day.

“Hit the showers, kids,” he told us.

I ran as fast as I could back to the nurse’s office. I smelled like shit—literally. I opened the door to the nurse’s office and noticed that Leslie was nowhere to be found. I turned on her TV in hopes that one of my soap operas would be on, but there was Oprah again, in all of her fat glory.

“DAMN YOU, OPRAH!” I yelled. “You’re as fat as a house and everyone listens to what you say. Why does no one listen to me?”

Enraged, I turned the television off and turned around to exit. On my way out, I noticed something I had not seen on my previous trip to the nurse—a telephone. I quickly looked around to see if anyone was around, picked up the phone, and dialed my mother’s number.

“DAMN IT!” I yelled when she didn’t pick up. It was four o’clock, so I figured she was probably at happy hour with the girls. I then dialed my father’s number hoping that someone, anyone, would pick up.

“Hello,” the voice on the other end of the phone said.

“Hello. Who is this?” I asked.

“It’s Stacey. Who is this?”

“Goddamn it, woman, where is my father?”

“Mark?” she asked. “How are you making a phone call right now? Aren’t you at camp?”

“Well, if you must know, you nosy bitch, I broke into the nurse’s office and made a long-distance call without anyone knowing. Where’s Dad?”

“He’s out,” she replied. “Having fun yet?” I could just imagine her smirking on the other end.

“I’M IN HELL AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!” I yelled.

She laughed: “I don’t know what you mean, my dear.”

“Oh, don’t pull that shit with me, lady. I’ve got your number. I will destroy you the second I return from camp. Just you wait.”

“I’m sure you will,” she replied. “What are you going to do? Quiz me to death with soap opera trivia? Ha-ha-ha.”

“I hate you. I hope you die before I get back from camp,” I said, not realizing that evil never dies.

“That’s not very nice. What would your father say if he heard you talking to me like that?” she asked.

“I hope he dies too. I hope you both die. That’s what both of you assholes should get for sending me to this horrible place. Now please tell him I love him and to call me at once!” I slammed the phone down and turned around. A figure stood in the door.

“CARL DUMPED ME!” Leslie yelled.

Goddamn it. I did not have time for this right now.

Leslie was a hysterical mess. She entered her office and sat down in her chair. Suddenly, she stopped crying and began sniffing around.

“What’s that smell?” she asked.

“Oh,” I replied. “That’s me. I smell like shit, I know.”

“Take a shower,” she replied.

“Uh, I would, but I think you need me right now,” I replied, trying to dodge yet another bullet.

“Carl dumped me and now I am all alone,” Leslie said.

“You have me,” I replied with a smile.

“Thanks Mark, but you’re twelve.”

“We can still be friends though. I will console you through your hard time.”

“You’re sweet. But I really cannot talk to you when you smell that way. Please, for the love of God, take a shower.”

“Uh, okay,” I replied.

“Like, now would be good.”

“Okay. I hope you feel better. Find me if you need me,” I said as I left her office. Carl was such an asshole, treating my beloved Leslie like that. I wanted to make him pay even more now. I walked back to my bunk, bypassing the shower altogether, and entered. I saw that Anthony 2 was in his bed listening to his headphones. I shot a dirty look at him and lay on my bed. I put the soundtrack from
Clueless
in my portable CD player and began listening. Suddenly, Anthony 2 was standing over me with a CD of his own.

“Janet,” Anthony 2 said as he handed me
Design of a Decade: Janet Jackson’s Greatest Hits
.

“You?”

“
Clueless
,” I replied. I took my CD out of my CD player and we exchanged discs. God bless the Italians for having good taste in music. I put the disc in and began listening. I skipped to a personal favorite, “Escape,” and suddenly was taken away by the music. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep.

“Mark?” a voice said to me.

“Hello? Who’s there?” I asked. A portly figure appeared in the doorway. As the figure came closer, I was delighted at who had come to visit me at camp.

“Janet Jackson! Thank God you’ve come to get me.”

“I’m not here to take you away on an escape, Mark. Musically yes, but literally, no.” Janet said with her signature half smile, “I’m here to teach you a lesson.”

“DAMN IT, JANET!” I yelled. “I am so sick of learning lessons.”

“You know, Mark, I have always had trouble with my weight. People in the media have always made backhanded comments about it, but I never let it get me down.” She paused. “What’s that smell?”

“Oh, it’s me. I know, I know, I smell like shit. I was playing in it all day.”

“Maybe you should shower,” Janet said.

“Maybe you should put out a new record already!” I retorted.

“Listen, Mark, you have a problem with your weight, and I think I can help.”

“I know, I’m fat and I don’t want to do anything about it. My asshole stepmother is always telling me how fat she thinks I am.”

“I’ve been watching you, Mark,” Janet Jackson said. “I like your style. But you do need to lose weight.”

“You think?” I said as I looked down at my waistline creating a rippling double-chin effect.

“Yes. It’s not healthy to be as heavy as you are at such a young age. When I was on
Good Times
, Florida Evans and I used
to have this talk daily. She would always tell me: ‘Janet, watch your weight while you’re a girl or you’ll end up heavy like me.’ ”

“You know that show really went downhill after they killed John Amos off,” I replied.

“Not the point,” Janet said. “Wait a second, I didn’t come on the show until after John Amos left.”

“Whatever,” I said. I had no intention of offending Janet Jackson to her face more than once, but James Evans was the glue that held the Evans family together and there was no denying that.

“Anyway, you don’t want to get old and have to worry about your weight. There are so many health concerns that come along with it.”

“Maybe you’re right, Janet,” I said, “but my stepmother is such a whore. I kind of want to stay fat just so that bitch doesn’t get what she wants.”

“Yes, your stepmother is a complete bitch, there is no doubt about that,” Janet said, “but, maybe if you lose weight you’ll shut her up for good.”

“I never thought about it like that, Janet Jackson,” I said. I had never thought that the only reason I ever once thought about my weight was because my father and stepmother were constantly bringing it up. I wasn’t ready to lose weight because I was being told I needed to, and whenever you’re forced into doing something, the results are never what either party intend for them to be. Like how date-rape drugging your girlfriend never works out in anyone’s favor so you should just wait until she’s ready to put out.

“Just trust me,” she said.

“I will, Janet. You and your brother have entertained me
for years. I listen to everything either one of you says. But why didn’t you write me back when I asked for a lock of your hair a few years back?”

“Oh that,” Janet said. “Well, I was on the Rhythm Nation tour. I was super busy. Here,” she said as she yanked a lock of her weave out of her head and handed it to me. “Take this. Lose the weight and prove to that bitch you can do it. And remember, Mark, growing old means giving up everything that gives you any pleasure whatsoever, so cool it with the cookies.”

Janet disappeared. In a matter of seconds, Jeremy appeared.

“Janet? Is it you?” I said.

“Janet? Who’s Janet?”

“You know, Miss Jackson, if you’re nasty.”

“What?” Jeremy said.

“Never mind.”

It was all a dream.

“It’s time for dinner,” Jeremy said, sniffing around. “Have you showered? Like, at all since you’ve been here?”

“I plead the fifth on that one.”

“You smell like shit!”

“Yes, yes, yes, I know. I smell like shit. You and everyone else I have encountered today have told me that. I’ll shower after dinner.”

“I’m sorry, Mark,” Jeremy said to me, “but I cannot sit next to you at dinner if you smell like that. You’re going to have to sit with the Italians.”

It had taken a divine intervention from Janet Jackson, but I finally decided to bite the bullet and get my shit together. I had exactly three weeks left at camp before I got to go home, so I figured I would make the most of it. Besides, exercising wasn’t that bad. For the rest of the month of August, I ran, swam,
played capture the flag, and even learned how to play basketball. As the summer came to a close, I had never been more excited to get out of a place more and was very happy to not have to be in New Hampshire anymore.

“Bye, Mark,” Jeremy said. “I’m really going to miss you. Will you keep in touch?”

“Probably not,” I said.

“Well, that’s okay,” Jeremy replied. “We’ll see each other next summer.”

“Probably not,” I said.

I gathered my things and checked my bags one last time to make sure I had everything, but noticed several important items that I had brought to camp with me were missing.

“WHERE ARE THOSE FUCKING ITALIANS?” I yelled.

“They left already,” Jeremy responded.

“They stole my
Clueless
CD and my
Melrose Place
cologne!”

“I’m sure they didn’t mean to.”

“Jeremy, you need to get a clue. Those Italians have sticky fingers.”

I was about to throw something in a fit of rage when Glenn walked in.

“GLENN!” Jeremy yelled. My confusion about everyone’s enthusiasm over Glenn continued. I still didn’t understand why everyone liked him so much.

“Time to go, kids,” Glenn said.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Jeremy said as he hugged Glenn.

“Me too, kiddo,” Glenn said. “Ready to go?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” I replied, “and I really hope that I don’t see you on a
Dateline
special anytime soon.”

Glenn looked dumbfounded. It was a look he had perfected that summer.

I felt like Mary Tyler Moore when she decided to take a job at WJM-TV. I had made it after all. I was ready to go home and got on a flight headed back to Washington, D.C.

“Mark!” my father said as I got off the plane and entered the boarding area.

I hugged my father. I guess I was glad to see him.

“I thought Stacey was going to be with you when you picked me up,” I said, questioning where my evil stepmother was. Perhaps they had divorced while I was away and she had crawled back into the hole from whence she came.

“She’s in the car, smoking,” my father replied. I briefly wondered how long it would be before lung cancer took Stacey from us and started timelining that shit in my head.

“You look amazing,” my father said. “It looks like that camp really paid for itself, huh?”

“I guess so,” I replied. My father grabbed my bags and we approached the car where my stepmother was waiting for us, chain-smoking. With each step that we took closer to the car, the more my stepmother’s eyes lit up. I know that I had convinced myself that I was losing weight to make myself a better person, but the fact that it gave my stepmother pleasure made me irate.

“Mark, you look amazing,” she said as I got into the car.

“Thanks, Stacey,” I replied. “You’re looking a little pasty yourself. Haven’t gotten out in the sun much this summer, have we?”

She turned around and exhaled her cigarette smoke in my face. I savored it.

“How much weight have you lost?” Stacey asked.

“About fifteen pounds,” I replied.

“Did you make any friends at camp?” my father asked.

“Not a one. I was stuck with this little white kid named Jeremy and three to four Italians. We had nothing in common.”

My stepmother finished smoking her cigarette and rolled the windows up. Suddenly, the two of them began sniffing around.

“I haven’t showered in a month,” I said, as if this was something to be proud of.

“Why not?” my father questioned.

“I don’t do communal showers,” I responded.

“I can’t believe it, Mark,” my stepmother chimed in. “You look like a real boy.”

“What did I look like before?” I questioned.

“Fat,” she said.

“What is wrong with that?”

“Haven’t we been over this?” Stacey said. “Boys your age are not supposed to be heavy like that. Or, for that matter, hanging out in the Catskill Mountains singing show tunes.”

“There is nothing wrong with singing show tunes,” I said.

“Quite frankly, Mark, I think this new and improved you is going to bring this family closer,” Stacey said. “I know I like you a lot more.” How did my weight determine the closeness of our family?

“Perhaps keeping your hands to yourself would definitely bring this family closer. Your biweekly death threats to my father aren’t necessarily Hallmark moments, if you know what I mean,” I said.