Solicitor and I are not speaking. We had a huge argument last night.
Brother-In-Law dropped by last night with his new girlfriend. She's great. Swift thinking with a sharp wit. We got on like a house on fire.
Brother-In-Law brought up the conversation about bulimia. He'd seen a thin girl purchasing three boxes of laxatives and couldn't believe the shop attendant sold them to her without questioning her.
"A shop attendant can't question someone about their purchases." Girlfriend laughed. "If some guy bought three bottles of lube the guy wouldn't question him about his personal habits. This is no different."
"Yes it is." Brother-In-Law argued. "Laxatives are dangerous. Lube isn't."
We argued about the moral obligation of the shop attendant for a while before the subject shifted to the actual eating disorder.
"I don't understand why someone would do that to themselves." Brother-In-Law said shaking his head in disgust. "You don't even lose weight doing it."
"It's not about losing weight." I argued. "It's about feeling that you have."
Solicitor and Brother-In-Law looked skeptical. Girlfriend nodded.
"I think I understand what your saying." She said slowly. "Some days you feel fatter than others, regardless of how much you weigh."
"Exactly. Laxatives just makes you feel good." I paused. "I'm assuming." I added.
The conversation soon shifted onto another subject.
When Brother-In-Law and Girlfriend left Solicitor studied me seriously.
"I didn't realise you had an eating disorder." He said quietly.
"I don't." I retorted. "Why the hell would you think that? Have I ever said no to food?"
"I didn't say you have, I said you had."
"You don't know what your talking about. Just because I understand the other side of the fence, it doesn't mean I've been there." I argued angrily. "I have an A-level in psychology, remember? I learnt a little about the disorder."
Solicitor was quiet for a while.
"You want to tell me what happened?"
I lost my temper.
"I don't have a problem and I never have had one!" I shouted. "What's you're problem? Just because your ex wife is fucked up it doesn't mean that I am."
"Aimee has got nothing to do with this." He bit out angrily. "This is about you."
I shouldn't have mentioned Aimee. I could tell that I hit a nerve and I should have stopped there.
"Are you sure this isn't about you?" I said defiantly. "You're marriage failed because she was a smack head. Looking for a problem with me?"
Solicitor lost his temper and slammed his fist against the door frame.
"What the fuck is the matter with you?" he yelled
"Nothing!" I screamed "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I asked you one fucking question and you've lost your mind! You're acting like a psychopath."
"Leave me alone." I shouted slamming the bedroom door in his face.
He left me alone. He slept in the spare room. I didn't sleep all night. I kept staring at the door hoping that he would come back. But he never did.
This morning I heard him get up for work. Instead of waking up and making him breakfast I kept my eyes closed and pretended to be asleep.
I haven't called him all day and now I can't stop thinking about it.
I'm not angry at him, I'm angry at me. I said some horrible things. He was right I acted like a psychopath.
I don't have a problem. I have enough self confidence and I'm actually happy with my image. But when I was 14 it was a different story. It wasn't that serious. I didn't make myself terribly ill. I'd call it a phase that I went through, a way of dealing with some things.
I haven't told Solicitor about it. I guess deep down I'm really afraid. I know it's against all logical thought, but I'm worried that he'll think I'm like Aimee.
He'll be late home today. He text me earlier:
Got a meeting at 6. Be home after that.
I guess he's still angry. He normally leaves a kiss at the end of texts.