Room Without A View Continued…

We line up for chow in pairs of two. I hear one girl ask another, “Want to be my two?” I move to the back of the line since that’s where the lonely “one” goes. In two weeks I’ve made just a few friends. I’m in what they call the “Cottonwood” cottage. There is a “prison shower” which is a large room with multiple shower heads. There’s a living area where there’s a TV, tables, chairs, and puzzles. The walls are nothing but square bricks painted white. The office is a bubble of glass, brick, and one door that always remains locked. Then of course there are our cells. Two more weeks. I can do this.

The sight of that state car never looked more sweet. This time nutcase must have stayed in her nut tree because it was a handsome young man that made the drive back home more enjoyable. You’d think that it’d be amazing to be home after being away for that long. But alas, it’s just like old times with mom driving the control boat and me trying to jump off without a life vest. I run. I run. And I run like hell. I run to alcohol and drugs. I run from the law. I run to every boy who is willing to give me the attention I crave. I run in a stolen car. I start fights with anyone and everyone who tried to take away the control I thought I had on my own life. Truth is, I was totally out of control.

Red, white, and blue stands for freedom so why is it that I’m locked up again? The judge gazes at me over her glasses. “Eighteen months in Mountain View School for Girls to run consecutively. Defendant is to maintain counseling and drug and alcohol treatment. And Tonia? I really hope you’re able to turn your life around. If you choose not to, you’ll be 18 soon and I will have no other choice but to send you to adult prison. Have a nice day.” SMACK goes the gavel.

I return to see old faces. Name calling and glares have been replaced with hugs and welcome backs. Perhaps last time the girls were trying to scare me straight on my 45? It was however, their home and I was just a visitor at the time.  What they don’t know is that I was lured back. Lured by a feeling of love, acceptance, and of being wanted. Some of these girls had been beaten, abused, raped, molested, and left to the world to survive on their own. They were only teenagers.

I was allowed to work in the cafeteria. It got me out of my cell and I moved up into one of the top cottages for good behavior. I learned how to cook and serve at least a hundred girls and staff. It was nice to have responsibility. The girls really became some of my closest friends. I had affairs with a few but after realizing relationships with girls cause way too many dramatic issues, I was done. After 18 months, I was released into a group home. Then a foster home. I was bounced around between five foster and group homes for what seemed like eternity.  I was able to complete drug and alcohol counseling and maintain a job that paid off all of my restitution to the state and the victims of my crimes. I was ready for 18 in two months and I sure as hell wasn’t going to see that judge as an adult.

“Tonia, you are now released from state custody. You are no longer a ward of the state under the juvenile statute.” The judge again peers over her glasses. Doesn’t she have some that fit?! “I hope you take this as an opportunity to grow and learn. I wish you the best. I don’t ever want to see you in my courtroom again.” The SMACK of the gavel no longer holds fear. It now holds freedom.

Are you ready?

Four. One. Two. Not dollars. Not calories. Not the number of times I have hit the snooze button on a Monday morning but POUNDS! When I stepped off the scale and turned to look at the petite nurse I about fell over. The only thing stopping me was the fact there was no way in hell this little thing was going to absorb my fall. How did this happen? Well no, I know HOW this happened but WHEN? I bet it was that time I did the juicing diet for a week and then cheated by adding ice cubes to make me feel fuller. Yes. It was the ice cubes. Aside from the 4 slices of pizza and 2 king-sized candy bars that “ONE” night, I can’t imagine when this happened!

I am a small town girl (small TOWN, not GIRL) who loves her food. Fast food, Soul food, Mexican food, Chinese food, OLD FOOD, NEW FOOD, GROSS FOOD. I. Love. Food. Hello, my name is Tonia and I am addicted to food. *insert sarcasm* I get so pissed when I drive by a Dairy Queen and see all those skinny people with their skinny kids and their skinny dogs in their skinny cars ordering their skinny cones and mini blizzards.  My DQ conversation goes like this:

Hello welcome to Dairy Queen, may I take your order?

Yes, I would like the large Oreo blizzard, a Peanut Buster Parfait and …..a large water. Oh! And a corn dog.

Is that all?

Oh God I hope so.

I slowly roll up to the window and the sweet, young cashier peeks into my car. Yes. It is only me. Take my money so I can roll over to the grocery store parking lot and eat away my shame.

I started this blog because I am tired of living my lie. I tell myself that I am still 130 pounds and try to convince the world along with me. People tell me, “You don’t ACT like you’re 412 pounds.” Really? Oh thank God! I mean, am I supposed to be bed ridden? Walk around with a Twinkie in my mouth…mmmm…Twinkie. How does a 412 pound person…..act? I will venture on. I will make goals and lifestyle changes. I will cry, bitch, moan, laugh and have excuses. Most importantly  I will have you, my dear readers. My supporters. My bashers. My fatties. My lifeline.

So there you have it, my honesty on a plate. With potatoes and creamed corn.