wait loss

Her own battles with weight had her very familiar with the sound of someone stepping onto the scale in her bathroom. It was a distinctive creaking because it also had a slight groan to it.

She wasn’t sure if the slight groan was real or imagined, a product of the materials that made up the scale accepting the weight of someone standing on it or the product of that someone looking down and seeing the result of said action.

Either way, she heard a groan in the creaking.

And this time she heard a groan in the creaking while she was making the bed, which was unusual as she lived alone.

This didn’t result in any panic as she knew nobody had crept into the bathroom unnoticed, it resided on the second floor, and she’d only recently been in there to brush her teeth and comb her hair. It was more of a quick acknowledgement of hearing it and the putting it out of her head and continuing her day.

Which was the same way she reacted the next day when she heard it.

It was third morning that piqued her curiosity. She hurried into the bathroom half expecting to see someone squirming their way out the small window, but found no one. She was turning to leave when she happened to glance down at the scale. A scale that briefly read 350 before the needle returned to zero.

The hairs on the back of her neck jumped to attention. “Hmmm” was all she said.

It happened again the next morning. Creak/groan, walk in, 350, hairs.

And again the next. Creak/groan, walk in, 350, hairs.

There were no cold spots, billowing curtains or shadowy figures prowling around the house at midnight. No objects flying across rooms or disembodied voices. Just creak/groan, walk in, 350, hairs. Which led her to the following idea;

She would do her daily workout in her bedroom instead of downstairs in front of the big screen TV. The bedroom TV was smaller but she could watch the same videos. The same low-impact aerobic instructors doing the same low-impact aerobics.

She finished up her 15 minute video and then heard the familiar creak/groan. She hurried in and looked at the scale.

It read 349.

“Just as I thought” she said to nobody, phrased in such a way that anyone who had heard her would assume she had a magnifying glass in one hand and clutched a pipe in the other.

The following day she watched a slightly longer video that worked her a little harder. A lone bead of sweat appeared on her forehead, which seemed to delight her to no end. It should be noted that at no time did she feel a presence next to her or sense anything supernatural was occurring, but as soon as she turned off the TV she heard it.

Creak/groan.

348.

As the months passed, her workouts grew more intense. Beads of sweat were commonplace and slid down her face like a salty prison break (and dripped from other parts best left to your imagination).

257.

Whether she felt her invisible friend next to her or not during these sessions, she began talking to her. Encouraging her. She assumed it was a her. She reasoned if it were a him that she would feel him in the bathroom while she showered. Forgive her preconceived notions about masculine behavior.

189.

Then she began talking to her when she wasn’t working out. While she was cooking or cleaning or just puttering around the house.

147.

“That a girl” she said aloud in her most encouraging tone. She wondered how tall her friend had been.

127.

"Hopefully on the shorter side" as 127 was getting pretty thin. She didn’t feel it appropriate to lecture her friend about body dysmorphia, especially since she didn’t have a body to speak of, but she was starting to grow concerned.

At 100 she wondered if she should stop working out. She didn't.

Creak/groan. 90.

She started to lecture her body-less friend about the dangers of body dysmorphia. “You need to be ok with yourself as is” she would say earnestly as she was finishing up her 90 minute high-intensity video.

She heard the familiar noise in the bathroom.

73.

She began to make two salads for dinner, in the hopes that she would look over and see one of them mysteriously consumed. They were not. Same went for the protein shakes.

50.

40.

30.

“One more month to go” she thought to herself. “Then what?”

She was looking and feeling better than she’d ever felt before. Her workouts were now over two hours, had her near exhaustion every time and required a healthier diet than she’d ever thought possible back in her junk food days. There was certainly a pep in her step that hadn’t been there before, but there was also a shadow hanging over her. Was she really exercising her friend to non-existence? Or was she helping her move on?

One more month to find out.

And then it was one more week.

And then the scale creaked/groaned 1.

The next morning she worked out with tears streaming down her face. “A year you’ve been with me” she said. “You and I are in this together” she said. “You can’t go” she said. Then finally “Please don’t.”

The video ended and no sound came from the bathroom.

She walked in and the scale sat at 0.

She stepped onto it.

It creaked.

No groan.