F.A.T.
for her to study herself in any one of the myriad reflections and find anything redeeming. That was all part of the plan. “You’ve fooled yourself long enough,” Terri would say. “Now’s the time to see the truth. You need to see what the rest of us see and do something about it.”
As Annie sauntered through her home, the mirror screens flickered their motivational slogans as she walked by them. Aside from looking pale and bloated, her mirrored image also had phrases like “Fat: Not Where it’s At!” and “Nothing Tastes as Good as Being Thin Feels” flicker across her face. She was numb to this by now. She had simply learned not to look, so that occasionally, when she saw her image reflected, uninterrupted, in a store window or even in a puddle, she almost did not know who was looking back at her. Instinctively, Annie knew that she was looking at herself, but sometimes she wasn’t sure. What does it mean, she thought, to not even recognize your own face? Is this what Frankie meant by “buying into” everything? Had she let him down after all?
Annie glanced at her watch. Terri would be there within minutes. Her stomach started to cramp a little. She wasn’t sure if this was a reaction to the cupcake or if it was just nervousness. She always felt a little panicked during these consultations. She didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the way Terri tried to make her feel at ease while insulting and interrogating her. Annie never knew whether to feel angry, hurt, or simply resigned. She was a little worried that somehow Terri would find out about the cupcake too, but it wasn’t a huge issue. After all, she’d cheated before and she knew she would again, even if only on principle. The last time, when Annie had managed to convince the ration handlers in the bread line to give her a double portion of white slices, Terri had put her on water diet for a week. For seven days, she took in nothing but water, and did it gladly because she felt a small sense of victory in the whole affair. But she always hated confronting Terri after her escapades: the cold vacancy of her eyes, the deadly sweetness of her smile.
“Miss Annie? Are you ready?” Terri’s voice came from the hallway. She did not knock. She did not need to. The element of surprise was part of her job. But Terri never knocked, whereas some of the other counselors did with their clients. It was a courtesy, a sign of trust. Terri evidently did not trust Annie in any respect.
“Yeah,” Annie said disinterestedly. She rolled up her sleeve to have her blood pressure taken.
“How are you today?” Terri asked, scribbling some preliminary figures into her notebook.