by Anna Zoeker

Skinny Bones Jones， Twig， Stick and Monkey Arms were some of the nicer names the kids at school called me when I was a kid. Thin didnt begin to describe my appearance. I was an extremely picky eater with the 1）metabolism of a hummingbird. I was so slight in stature， I looked like a good stiff wind could blow me over. A boy at school once took a look at me and asked，“Are those strings or legs？”

Being 2）scrawny and skeletal was made even worse by the fact that my mother was plumply overweight. Mom had me late in life， so she was firmly in middle age by the time I was old enough to walk. She battled her bulge by occasionally following 3）Weight Watchers and exercising alongside 4）Jack LaLanne. Doing 500 jumping jacks， 100 legs lifts and 25 push-ups were soon followed by lunches of 5）cottage cheese with canned beets， last nights leftover mashed potatoes，then enjoying a large bowl of 6）rocky road ice cream while watching 7）Days of Our Lives. By the time I was eight， Mom gave up on ever getting her pre-four-children-body back， so she threw out the Weight Watchers books and our bathroom scale in one last act of suburban， house-wifely defiance， forcing me to monitor my growth and weight gain at other peoples houses. And when classmates asked me to come to their house to play， my first question wasnt， Do you own a Barbie Dreamhouse？ but Do you have a scale？

The scale was my Gypsy， my magic carpet ride， my hope， my curse. Its numbers c o u l d d a s h m y dreams， leave me flat， or give me hopeful news. Id jump on it with abandon， fully c l o t h e d ， w e a r i n g sneakers， marveling at the spinning dial that swung back and forth like a 8）pendulum until it settled on my true weight. If I gained a pound or two， I was elated and Id go home later， triumphant.

“Mom， I weighed myself at Kerrys house. Im 60 pounds！” The number was always a revelation. A joy. A cause for celebration.

Somehow， I grew from a scrawny beanstalk of a child into a 9）lithe and extremely lean teen. By the age of 20， I finally reached five-feet， six-anda-half inches tall and weighed a perfect， California actress/model， 120 pounds. I assumed Id stay that perfect weight forever. Sadly， I was mistaken.

When I was 23， I started dating a boy I was crazy about and also began working full-time as a secretary at a small publishing company after graduating college. Between commuting an hour to work each way， sitting behind a desk 8 hours， then seeing my beloved every night over dinners of all-you-can-eat ribs or chowing down on pizza， pasta and garlic knots， I began filling out and didnt realize it. I assumed pants Id always worn， had simply shrunk. When I went to the 10）gynecologists office， I got on the scale and argued with the nurse when she said I weighed 129 pounds. “Thats impossible，” I shouted. “Ive always been 120 pounds.”She rolled her eyes at me and assured me there was nothing wrong with the scale. Was it possible Id gained nearly 10 pounds in just over six months？ No， I told myself！ I clung fiercely to the notion that the scale was broken the same way that Kate Winslet hung on to that piece of wood after the Titanic sank.

A few weeks later， a co-worker pulled me aside and said，“You were so cute and tiny when you started here， but youve put on weight. You better watch it.” Thats when I realized the doctors scale wasnt broken and something had to be done.

Id never dieted a day in my life and didnt know how. I figured the problem couldnt possibly be my food choices， or that I was eating junk at work out of boredom， but that I wasnt getting enough exercise. I tried to do something about it， but after a few weeks， there was no way to sugar coat it. I hated the gym. I hated the smell of dirty socks； the loud monotonous music； the complicated 11）Nautilus machines dripping with other peoples sweat. Most of all， I hated myself. And I hated that I was just a plain girl who was easily ignored.

I feel self-conscious writing about these 12）first-world problems， because at my height， weighing 130 or 135 pounds isnt that 13）egregious an error， except that I live in Los Angeles， home of Muscle Beach， the entertainment industry and the place where beautiful， skinny girls stand on every corner waiting for their reality show to start.

I think what I miss most of all from that tiny sliver of time， when I owned that perfect， actress slash model， 120-pound body， is that I was young once and certain I was going to write the next Great American novel. I was young once， and ate anything I wanted without fear or regret. I was young once and used to come home to a mother whod look at me like I was the most beautiful， magnificent girl in the world， then shed hand me a bowl of rocky road ice cream and fill me in on what happened on Days of Our Lives. Like that body， those days are sadly， long gone.

“瘦骨”瓊斯、小枝兒、細(xì)棍子和猴子臂，小時(shí)候，學(xué)校里的孩子愛給我取外號(hào)，這幾個(gè)還算是比較厚道的了?！笆荨边@個(gè)詞還不足以描述我的長相。我曾經(jīng)極度挑食，而新陳代謝的速度卻又跟蜂鳥一樣奇快無比。我的身材單薄到看上去一陣大風(fēng)就能把我吹上天去。學(xué)校里的一個(gè)男孩曾經(jīng)瞅了我一眼，問道：“那兩根是繩子呢，還是腿？”

我瘦骨嶙峋也就罷了，更糟的是，我母親卻肥胖超標(biāo)。媽媽年紀(jì)很大了才生下我，所以當(dāng)我長到會(huì)走路的時(shí)候，她已經(jīng)完全人到中年。她時(shí)不時(shí)會(huì)按慧優(yōu)體的訣竅減重，又跟著美國健身大師杰克·拉蘭內(nèi)鍛煉，以此來與肥胖作斗爭(zhēng)。不過，500個(gè)開合跳、100個(gè)抬腿和25個(gè)俯臥撐后，很快就是一頓白軟干酪配罐裝甜菜加前一晚吃剩的土豆泥搭配而成的午餐，接著是邊看《我們的日子》邊享用一大碗巖石路冰激凌。到我八歲時(shí)，媽媽放棄了一切努力，不再巴望著恢復(fù)到四個(gè)孩子未出生前的體型，于是使出郊區(qū)主婦最后的性子，一把扔掉了慧優(yōu)體的書和浴室體重計(jì)，逼得我只能去別人家量測(cè)自己的身高體重了。而當(dāng)同學(xué)們邀我到他們家玩時(shí)，我的第一個(gè)問題不是“你家有‘芭比夢(mèng)想豪宅嗎？”而是“你家有體重計(jì)嗎？”

體重計(jì)就是我的吉普賽，我的魔毯之旅，我的希望，我的詛咒。它的讀數(shù)能打碎我的美夢(mèng)，讓我徹底泄氣，或是帶給我希望之音。我會(huì)全副武裝，穿上運(yùn)動(dòng)鞋，肆意跳上去，看著指針像鐘擺一樣來回?cái)[動(dòng)，直到它停在我的真實(shí)體重讀數(shù)上，驚嘆不已。如果體重增加了一兩磅的話，我會(huì)變得興高采烈，之后歡欣鼓舞地回家去。

“媽媽，我在凱瑞家稱體重了。我有60磅（27.22公斤）！”讀數(shù)永遠(yuǎn)都是一件新鮮事，一種快樂，一個(gè)值得慶祝的理由。

不知怎的，我從小時(shí)候那個(gè)皮包骨的豆芽菜長成了一個(gè)輕盈瘦削的少女。到20歲那年，我的身高終于達(dá)到了5.65英尺（約1.69米），而體重則是一個(gè)完美的加利福尼亞州演員兼模特那樣的120磅（約54.43公斤）。我以為自己將會(huì)永遠(yuǎn)保持這個(gè)完美的體重。不幸的是，我錯(cuò)了。

二十三歲時(shí)，我開始與一個(gè)讓我癡迷不已的男孩約會(huì)，同時(shí)開始干著一份在大學(xué)畢業(yè)后找到的全職工作，在一家小出版公司當(dāng)文秘。單程一小時(shí)的上班時(shí)間，在辦公桌旁坐上八個(gè)小時(shí)，每晚與情人共進(jìn)晚餐，啃著“吃到飽豬肋排”或大嚼披薩餅、通心粉和蒜香面包結(jié)，日子一長，我開始長胖卻不自知。我認(rèn)為我一直都在穿的褲子只不過是縮水了。當(dāng)我到婦科醫(yī)生的辦公室時(shí)，順便稱了稱體重。當(dāng)護(hù)士說我體重129磅（約58.51公斤）時(shí)，我跟她爭(zhēng)辯了起來?！澳鞘遣豢赡艿模蔽掖蠼械??！拔乙恢倍际?20磅重的。”她白了我一眼，向我保證說那個(gè)體重計(jì)一點(diǎn)問題都沒有。我有可能在僅僅六個(gè)月之內(nèi)就增重了接近10磅嗎？不可能的，我跟自己說！我死命堅(jiān)稱是體重計(jì)壞掉了，就像凱特·溫絲萊特在泰坦尼克號(hào)沉沒后拼命抱著那片木板一樣。

幾周后，一位同事把我拉到一邊對(duì)我說：“你剛來這里時(shí)，多么嬌小可愛啊，怎么現(xiàn)在都長胖了呀。你得注意一下了?！边@時(shí)候，我才意識(shí)到，醫(yī)生的體重計(jì)并沒有壞，我得有所行動(dòng)了。

我這輩子從來就沒節(jié)食過，也不知道該怎么做。我覺得問題不可能出在我對(duì)食物的選擇上，或是工作無聊時(shí)吃的垃圾食品上，而是因?yàn)槲业倪\(yùn)動(dòng)量不夠。我試圖對(duì)此做些什么，但幾個(gè)星期以后，已經(jīng)沒辦法掩飾下去了。我痛恨健身房。我痛恨臟襪子的味道、吵鬧單調(diào)的音樂、復(fù)雜的滴著別人汗水的健身器材。最糟糕的是，我痛恨我自己。我痛恨自己只是個(gè)相貌平平的姑娘，容易被忽視。

當(dāng)寫下這些“第一世界難題”時(shí)，我覺得挺難為情的，因?yàn)橐晕业纳砀?，體重在130或135磅并不是什么極其惡劣的過失，只可惜我住在洛杉磯——“肌肉海灘”之鄉(xiāng)，娛樂產(chǎn)業(yè)發(fā)達(dá)，在這個(gè)地方，美麗而纖瘦的女孩站在每個(gè)角落等候她們的真人秀上演。

我想，對(duì)于那段極其短暫的時(shí)光，那段我擁有完美演員兼模特的120磅體重的日子，我最想念的是自己曾經(jīng)那么年輕，確信自己將寫出下一本偉大的美國小說。我曾經(jīng)那么年輕，想吃什么就吃什么，從不擔(dān)心或悔恨。我曾經(jīng)那么年輕，那時(shí)常常回到家后，母親會(huì)看著我，就像我是世界上最漂亮最出色的女孩，接著遞給我一碗巖石路冰激凌，然后給我惡補(bǔ)《我們的日子》里發(fā)生的故事。不幸的是，就像那個(gè)體型一樣，那樣的日子早已一去不復(fù)返了。