but I don’t have a cell phone,

just this old landline.

But then I have a sudden thought:

What if things have changed?

What if Lisa already went back to the beach,

and she’s hanging out with those older boys.

What if she and Jorge

went on some adventure

without me?

What if her mother

won’t let her go back at all

and the nursery and the beach

break off in a great earthquake,

the trolls we made fall into turbulent

waves and grinding sand.

Middle of Level 2

I’m due after this week

to lose three more pounds,

but in the morning,

I feel like my stomach

is twice the size.

I walk to the mirror

in the hallway

and stand straight, then sideways.

Years of looking,

of seeing, or hearing

words about my body,

make it impossible

to see clearly.

I feel like I am suddenly

off track,

filling up

instead of deflating.

At the scale,

I imagine

24 pounds

of victory,

fat squashed away.

24 pounds

no longer

me.

I step on.

Left foot.

Right foot.

My eyes squint tightly.

When I open them

I lose

my breath.

This can’t be right.

21 pounds was the last time,

but now,

in the cool morning,

5 pounds have found

their way back to me.

16.

16 pounds

since it all started.

How could this happen?

I put my fingers

in the waistband.

I feel for the free air

between my body

and my belt.

Still there.

I take my shirt off.

I look for the fat kid

in the mirror.

He’s there and not there.

Indiscretion

In The Diet Book,

the doctor warns us to beware of indiscretions,

that we all make mistakes

from time to time.

After induction

in Level 1,

I taught my body

not to eat carbs.

Devour fat, body!

Eat the fat,

and that is what it did.

In Level 2, the body is adjusting

to its new ways of digesting.

It searches for fat,

a memory of Doritos

and Coke in a can.

The body gets mixed

up in Level 2.

Processes slow down

in the memory

of old food.

Carbs find their way in

as subtle suggestions,

a roll at dinner,

an extra handful of peanuts,

too much fruit,

or just the crust of a pizza.

Indiscretions.

I walk to my closet,

stare at my clothes.

Most are dark,

slimming, as my mother says.

Not a single horizontal stripe.

I promised myself

new clothes

at the end of the summer.

I will buy new jeans

and slim-fit shirts with stripes.

I feel my bones

loose inside my body.

I feel tightness in my pants

and the cling of my shirt.

My skin cells tingle

with every touch of fabric.

This has to be in my head.

On a website, I read about

what to do when the diet

stalls. It says,

Be good to yourself,

lower your carb intake,

shock your body,

starve it again.

Exercise.

I hold the book in my hands,