parents decorated our attic with hanging strands of glow-in-the-dark beads. I used them to separate my bed from the rest of the room, shoving the box frame and mattress against the window with my head at the pane. Two sloping walls encased my bed, and beyond the bead curtain was a makeshift closet, a rolling pole for my clothes. My size 14 jeans and extra-large shirts hung there exposed, constantly reminding me how much weight I wanted to lose. I shared the space with boxes of Christmas decorations that resided in the corners of the room and on both sides of the staircase that folded away when I wasn’t up there. Most of our decorations hadn’t made it all the way to New Jersey. They’d been left behind at our other house after the bankruptcy.