Chapter #4Weeks Go By by: BeeJay   A week after it happened, I got out of the shower, and ran a hand over my legs. Still silky smooth. For days, I hadn't had to shave my legs, or my underarms, for that matter. I studied my nails; they, too, hadn't gotten any longer since the last time I cut them.
Now, some of you may be wondering, Why didn't this dizzy twit (or maybe something stronger) go to the doctor? Well, all I can say is, it didn't seem like that big of a deal to me; not at first, anyway. So I didn't have to shave, or trim my nails; so what? It's not like those were activities I just loved doing. Besides, even if it had bothered me, who could I convince it was a big deal? Less time getting ready in the morning sounds great to you, doesn't it? So I said nothing, to anyone.
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As the weeks went by, I did find one thing that puzzled me: I was losing weight.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, turning this way and that, looking at my body. I looked the same as I always had. So how come I weighed so much less than I had just a few weeks ago? Ah, well, I thought, it's not like people listen when you complain about weighing too little. Besides, if I can't tell where the pounds and inches are coming from, it can't be too bad, can it?
Yeah, I actually thought that.
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Three weeks into the school year, it was time for the teams to start playing; which meant it was time for us cheerleaders to start getting the crowds pumping for them. We were in the girls' locker room, getting dressed.
At least, I was trying to. I kept getting distracted by how nothing seemed to fit right. I had to adjust the laces on my shoes, so they would fit tighter. Even my bra straps kept falling off my shoulders. What was going on?
"Are you ready yet?" Taylor asked.
"Just about," I replied, pulling on my sweater. Once it was on, I found yet another peculiar thing: The sleeves of my sweater, which had fit snugly on my wrists last season, now came down to where my thumbs met my hands. "Do clothes ever stretch in the wash?"
"Sure," Quinn said, "my stuff always shrinks on me."
"She said stretch, not shrink," Taylor replied. Turning back to me, she said, "I've never heard of anything like that happening. Weird. Well, let's get out on the field; we can worry about that later."
"I guess you're right," I said, and stood up. But I didn't stop worrying; in fact, if anything, I had something else to worry about.
Last year, of the three of us, I was the tallest, at 5', 8"; Taylor was the shortest, at 5', 5"; and Quinn was between us, at 5', 7". At that moment, however, I was looking Taylor straight in the eye; and Quinn was taller than both of us.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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