something?”
As carelessly as I could I said, “Me? No! Why?” Hoping and praying that Saffy wouldn’t give me away.
“You look like you are,” said Zoë.
“Yes. You do!” Twinkle was now gazing at me. “You look sort of… thinner.”
“Really?” I said. Yawn yawn.
“You used to
bulge,”
said Twinkle. “You used to look like a big hovercraft.” And she puffed out her cheeks and went waddling across the room with her feet splayed and her bottom stuck in the air and her arms held out like panniers.
“Flomp flomp flomp,” went Zoë, joining in.
Such sweet girls. I
don’t
think.
“You do look as if you’ve lost weight,” said Portia.
I was pleased, of course, but also a bit embarrassed. I wanted people to notice – but I didn’t want them remarking on it! Saffy was really good. She could easily have betrayed me, but she didn’t. When Portia turned to her and said, “Don’t you think she looks as if she’s lost weight?” Saffy just said, “I suppose she does. I hadn’t really thought about it.” But next day, when we went back to her place after class, she read me this mumsy-type lecture, all about how I’d lost as much weight as I needed and how I’d got to start eating properly.
“I can say this,” she said, “‘cos you’re my friend. If you carry on not eating you’ll get ill. You’ll get hag-like. You’ll end up like Pauline Pretty!”
What did she mean, I would end up like Pauline Pretty? How dare she say such a thing! I wasn’t anorexic. I could stop any time I wanted, just like that! I said so to Saffy. I told her that I could stop
any time I wanted.
“So when are you going to?” said Saffy.
I said, “As soon as I’ve reached my target weight.”
“Which is what?”
Blusteringly I said, “Well! Whatever I decide.”
I couldn’t give her an exact weight because I didn’t have one. I didn’t have a target weight! I just had this fixed idea that I would go on slimming until I could finally look in the mirror and like what I saw. It wasn’t a question of weight. It was a question of how I looked.
“I wish we’d never started drama classes if this is what it’s done to you!” cried Saffy.
I said, “It was you that wanted to. Don’t blame me!”
“I’m not blaming you,” said Saffy.
“Sounds like you are.”
“I’m not, but ever since that stupid woman came you’ve got all miserable and cranky and obsessed with yourself!”
“I’m just thinking of my future,” I said. “If you don’t mind! I’m just exercising a bit of
willpower.
You’d think,” I said, “being my
friend,
you’d want to help me. Not go nagging on at me the whole time!”
Saffy pursed her lips, making them go into a narrow line. “What about your mum and dad?” she said.
I said, “What about them?”
“What do they say?”
“They don’t say anything.
They
don’t nag!”
The truth was that Mum and Dad still hadn’t noticed. I was being that cunning! Plus Dad isn’t the most observant of people, except when it’s food. Plus Mum was always working. But I was developing new strategies all the time. I’d not only learnt how to avoid eating but when I was at home I’d deliberately wear clothes that made me look the same plump Pumpkin that I’d always been. I’d wear long baggy T-shirts over big saggy jeans, and when I dressed for school I’d wear my blouse outside my skirt. As soon as I left the house I’d tuck it back in and pin up the waistband. I didn’t want to go out and buy new clothes until I’d reached my target body image. That’s what I was calling it.
Target body image.
I think I knew, deep down, that Saffy was right. I had to have some aim in view; I couldn’t just keep slimming indefinitely. It was a question of knowing when to stop. And the answer to that was… when I was thin as a pin!
Sometimes on a Sunday me and Dad and Pip, and Petal if she doesn’t have anything else to do, go and visit my gran. That is, Dad’s mum. (The one
As carelessly as I could I said, “Me? No! Why?” Hoping and praying that Saffy wouldn’t give me away.
“You look like you are,” said Zoë.
“Yes. You do!” Twinkle was now gazing at me. “You look sort of… thinner.”
“Really?” I said. Yawn yawn.
“You used to
bulge,”
said Twinkle. “You used to look like a big hovercraft.” And she puffed out her cheeks and went waddling across the room with her feet splayed and her bottom stuck in the air and her arms held out like panniers.
“Flomp flomp flomp,” went Zoë, joining in.
Such sweet girls. I
don’t
think.
“You do look as if you’ve lost weight,” said Portia.
I was pleased, of course, but also a bit embarrassed. I wanted people to notice – but I didn’t want them remarking on it! Saffy was really good. She could easily have betrayed me, but she didn’t. When Portia turned to her and said, “Don’t you think she looks as if she’s lost weight?” Saffy just said, “I suppose she does. I hadn’t really thought about it.” But next day, when we went back to her place after class, she read me this mumsy-type lecture, all about how I’d lost as much weight as I needed and how I’d got to start eating properly.
“I can say this,” she said, “‘cos you’re my friend. If you carry on not eating you’ll get ill. You’ll get hag-like. You’ll end up like Pauline Pretty!”
What did she mean, I would end up like Pauline Pretty? How dare she say such a thing! I wasn’t anorexic. I could stop any time I wanted, just like that! I said so to Saffy. I told her that I could stop
any time I wanted.
“So when are you going to?” said Saffy.
I said, “As soon as I’ve reached my target weight.”
“Which is what?”
Blusteringly I said, “Well! Whatever I decide.”
I couldn’t give her an exact weight because I didn’t have one. I didn’t have a target weight! I just had this fixed idea that I would go on slimming until I could finally look in the mirror and like what I saw. It wasn’t a question of weight. It was a question of how I looked.
“I wish we’d never started drama classes if this is what it’s done to you!” cried Saffy.
I said, “It was you that wanted to. Don’t blame me!”
“I’m not blaming you,” said Saffy.
“Sounds like you are.”
“I’m not, but ever since that stupid woman came you’ve got all miserable and cranky and obsessed with yourself!”
“I’m just thinking of my future,” I said. “If you don’t mind! I’m just exercising a bit of
willpower.
You’d think,” I said, “being my
friend,
you’d want to help me. Not go nagging on at me the whole time!”
Saffy pursed her lips, making them go into a narrow line. “What about your mum and dad?” she said.
I said, “What about them?”
“What do they say?”
“They don’t say anything.
They
don’t nag!”
The truth was that Mum and Dad still hadn’t noticed. I was being that cunning! Plus Dad isn’t the most observant of people, except when it’s food. Plus Mum was always working. But I was developing new strategies all the time. I’d not only learnt how to avoid eating but when I was at home I’d deliberately wear clothes that made me look the same plump Pumpkin that I’d always been. I’d wear long baggy T-shirts over big saggy jeans, and when I dressed for school I’d wear my blouse outside my skirt. As soon as I left the house I’d tuck it back in and pin up the waistband. I didn’t want to go out and buy new clothes until I’d reached my target body image. That’s what I was calling it.
Target body image.
I think I knew, deep down, that Saffy was right. I had to have some aim in view; I couldn’t just keep slimming indefinitely. It was a question of knowing when to stop. And the answer to that was… when I was thin as a pin!
Sometimes on a Sunday me and Dad and Pip, and Petal if she doesn’t have anything else to do, go and visit my gran. That is, Dad’s mum. (The one
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