A Secret I Kept from My Family and Friends
A Secret I Kept from My Family and Friends
I had always been the little chubby girl in my family. I am third of a family of five girls. My sisters were all visions of perfection: tall, thin, participating in cheer leading and debate. I, on the other hand, was introverted, preferring to sit under the tree of our backyard, read my romance novels, and munch on snacks. When I reached sixteen, though, my mom decided she would put me on a strict diet, controlling all my portions and supervising my activities. However, an activity I kept secret from my family and friends was that I would sneak into the kitchen at night to eat.
I remember when my mom met me in the kitchen one day after school and told me she would clean out the kitchen cupboards of junk food and supervise my meals and snacks. In a way I was relieved that I would not have to do this on my own. I had thought about losing weight and getting on a diet before, but never really went through with anything. Then it started. She weighed me and took my measurements, cooked lean meats like fish and chicken, accompanied them with fresh salads and vegetables, and made me drink lots of water with lemon. Every night, she made and packed my lean lunches, but she also continued to cook regularly for my other sisters and dad. The fact that I was being singled out is an entirely different essay.
Later at night I would wait until I thought everyone was asleep, then tip-toe into the kitchen, quietly open the refrigerator and nibble crispy fried chicken and slices of apple pie. Most times I ate things cold; I couldn't risk warming anything up in the microwave. The floor would sometimes squeak as I entered the kitchen.
Every morning I woke up and continued my charade. Every night, my ritual would be that I would abruptly wake up and go into the kitchen to eat. It was as if I were a robot. After a few weeks, mom decided to weigh me and noticed that I had actually gained five pounds! She was so surprised and disappointed
I had always been the little chubby girl in my family. I am third of a family of five girls. My sisters were all visions of perfection: tall, thin, participating in cheer leading and debate. I, on the other hand, was introverted, preferring to sit under the tree of our backyard, read my romance novels, and munch on snacks. When I reached sixteen, though, my mom decided she would put me on a strict diet, controlling all my portions and supervising my activities. However, an activity I kept secret from my family and friends was that I would sneak into the kitchen at night to eat.
I remember when my mom met me in the kitchen one day after school and told me she would clean out the kitchen cupboards of junk food and supervise my meals and snacks. In a way I was relieved that I would not have to do this on my own. I had thought about losing weight and getting on a diet before, but never really went through with anything. Then it started. She weighed me and took my measurements, cooked lean meats like fish and chicken, accompanied them with fresh salads and vegetables, and made me drink lots of water with lemon. Every night, she made and packed my lean lunches, but she also continued to cook regularly for my other sisters and dad. The fact that I was being singled out is an entirely different essay.
Later at night I would wait until I thought everyone was asleep, then tip-toe into the kitchen, quietly open the refrigerator and nibble crispy fried chicken and slices of apple pie. Most times I ate things cold; I couldn't risk warming anything up in the microwave. The floor would sometimes squeak as I entered the kitchen.
Every morning I woke up and continued my charade. Every night, my ritual would be that I would abruptly wake up and go into the kitchen to eat. It was as if I were a robot. After a few weeks, mom decided to weigh me and noticed that I had actually gained five pounds! She was so surprised and disappointed