8. WEIGHING IT UP
EIGHT
WEIGHING IT UP
The following day was quieter than usual, and Tess took the opportunity to look up some patterns for her new customer. Despite her best intentions, after a few minutes she found herself drawn to the MMM site, hoping to discover whether she’d merely been unlucky or if perhaps the problem had something to do with her.
‘I thought that the whole point of paying this money and being a “heart” was that you were guaranteed to meet a decent sort of person. Someone who’s been vetted .’ Tess was still recovering from her encounter with James.
‘Well, there was nothing wrong with him, was there? Just because he was a motorbike fanatic. You can hardly blame him for that.’ Orla sniffed. ‘See, if you’d gone for that guy with the bookshop, the one I told you about in the first place, you’d probably be living with him in Wales by now.’
‘It’s all right for you with your plumber,’ Tess said.
‘If you hadn’t been so high and mighty about the sort of bloke you wanted to meet, you’d probably have met someone great by now.’
‘I was not being high and mighty!’ Tess snapped .
Orla had started giggling again. ‘Never mind, only another four to go and you can get your money back.’
Tess started giggling too. ‘I’m not sure I’m strong enough to meet any more! But that’s why I’m determined to do this damned cruise – because I might as well get something out of it, even if it’s only a suntan. And those Greek islands must be so beautiful.’
‘Talking of which,’ Orla said, ‘I’ve booked Lauren to look after the shop while we’re away.’
Lauren was the wife of Orla’s elder son, Jack. She was rarely in Orla’s good books; Lauren was never at home, the house was a tip, the kids had no manners, and apparently she never put a decent meal on the table. However, apart from all that, Lauren was very obliging and very useful when Orla wanted time off. Not only that, Lauren was popular with the customers too, and usually sold more outfits than her mother-in-law did.
It was exciting to think of the cruise. Lauren would be looking after the shop, her neighbour had promised to look after the cat and, for a whole glorious week, Tess would only need to look after herself.
There was to be one night in Athens, with just enough time to see the Parthenon before heading to Piraeus to board the White Rose for the cruise to Mykonos, Santorini, Rhodes and Crete. It would be very hot and Tess was already wondering what to pack. The minimum of stuff probably: a couple of swimsuits and sundresses, some trousers, a nice evening dress or two.
‘I’ve put on a pound this week,’ she said. ‘The months are passing, Orla, and I still have twenty-one pounds to lose, so I’ve a long way to go.’
‘You’re fine,’ Orla said. ‘Stop worrying – men like a bit of flesh! ’
‘Well, Gerry didn’t,’ Tess said. ‘So, how’s Paul?’
‘He’s great. He’s talking now about updating my bathroom, because he can get some really trendy stuff for a song, and he’d fit it himself of course. All he asks for is a nice meal on the table and a bit of nookie now and again.’
Tess was yet to meet Paul. She wondered if he could be persuaded to have a look at her leaking radiator, without her having to provide the nookie.
The queue for the weigh-in at Slim Chance seemed to get longer each week, as the number of slimmers increased. ‘Pre-holiday panic’ was how Judy described it: the removal of layers, the baring of the body. Realisation, revulsion, reparation! As usual the group mainly consisted of women, with only three males: Phil, who was so obese he required two plastic chairs to accommodate his enormous bottom; Barney, whom Orla had once fancied and now came every week accompanied by his wife; and Kevin, who was merely chubby and not bad-looking, but appeared reclusive and non-conversational. Tess looked around for an empty seat and saw one next to Shirley.
‘How’s it going?’ Shirley asked.
‘Could do better,’ Tess replied with a grin. ‘My social life is making things difficult.’
‘I don’t have much of a social life,’ Shirley said sadly. ‘I lost touch with quite a few people when I was having my treatment, so I’m a bit out of the loop.’
Tess thought for a minute. ‘Why don’t you come round to my place one evening and I’ll do us a Slim Chance dinner? ’
‘That would be fabulous! Thanks so much! And we can exchange recipes. Thing is, I’m going to be away for a couple of weeks up in Manchester. My younger son and his wife have won a holiday in South Africa, would you believe, and guess who’s got to keep an eye on the kids?’
‘You’re a saint! How old are they?’
‘It’s not too bad – they’re both boys, twelve and fifteen, so not babies or anything. And they’ll be at school all day. It’ll just be the usual ritual of making sure they do their homework, prising them away from their phones occasionally, and getting them fed.’
‘Well, let’s set a date for when you get back,’ Tess said, taking out her diary.
They arranged a date and Shirley said, ‘I’ll look forward to it. Where do you live?’
As Tess gave her the address, she decided it would be a far more pleasant evening than having another disastrous encounter with some ridiculous ‘heart’.
Shirley had already been weighed and wasn’t interested in waiting for Judy’s lecture.
Now, as Tess stood in line to be weighed, she compared herself to the other slimmers. She knew she was tall enough to be able to carry her extra weight without it showing too much, and she was very careful to dress in a way that concealed the worst bits. In fact, seeing so much flab on display all round, she was beginning to feel positively normal. Tess was pleased not to stand out (memories of Marilyn’s birthday party again!) although she wouldn’t mind so much standing out for the right reasons, of course. Just look at that Tess Templar – doesn’t she look amazing !
‘That first day by the pool, or on the beach!’ Judy sighed as she began her lecture. ‘Particularly by the pool, because it’s a confined area with everybody watching everybody else. Go on, admit it! You say to yourself, “is she fatter than me?” or “are her thighs bigger than mine?” or “God, I’m glad I don’t look like that !” only to discover that you do, in fact, look exactly like that, because you hadn’t realised there was a full-length mirror on the outside of the changing room door as well! And you weren’t wearing your specs.’ Judy paused for effect. ‘Ladies, and you gentlemen as well, you have time to do something about it if you start now !’
The ladies murmured their assent and headed home, full of good intentions, to queue up again the following Tuesday morning to face the dreaded weighing machine. Most, of course, had weighed themselves when they first got out of bed, naked, and then mentally added a couple of pounds for clothing. This was particularly tricky in winter when they wore heavier clothing, and so the hall was littered with discarded coats, scarves, sweaters and boots.
On this occasion the woman in front of Tess had removed her watch, her belt and even her socks. She turned to face Tess with a sheepish grin. ‘I don’t even wear a bra on Tuesdays,’ she admitted, cupping her boobs up into a perkier position. ‘At home I only ever weigh myself with my wedding ring and my glasses on, otherwise I can’t see the bloody number on the scales.’ She looked frozen, standing there barefoot in a T-shirt and summer jeans.
Tess hadn’t lost any weight this week either.
When they were all seated in what by now was a double semicircle, Judy commenced her speech. ‘I need to know,’ she said, ‘how much weight each of you want to lose, and,’ she tapped her nose, ‘exactly why you want to lose it.’
The braless woman had got most of her clothes on again and had produced a pot of some sort of mush. ‘Breakfast,’ she explained to Tess, who was sitting next to her. ‘Daren’t have it until after the weigh-in!’
Tess nodded. She sympathised, having only had a banana for breakfast. The mush looked almost enticing. Almost.
Apparently Mabel, the woman with the huge buttocks, was going to New Zealand to see her sister. ‘I haven’t seen her for ten years,’ she said, ‘and I was thin as a rake then.’ She sniffed. ‘And now I’m going to have to sit in a plane for twenty-odd hours with an extension seat belt!’
‘And that worries you?’ Judy asked.
‘Yeah, it’s kind of humiliating.’
‘And bloody uncomfortable for whoever’s sitting next to you, wedged into half a seat!’ Judy didn’t mince her words. ‘So, what are you aiming for?’
‘Well,’ said Mabel, ‘I’m not expecting miracles or anything, but I’d just like not to have to have the extension belt.’ This remark warranted a round of applause.
‘I want you to visualise sitting there comfortably with a normal seat belt,’ said Judy, ‘and having an interesting conversation with whoever’s next to you, who’s sitting squarely in his or her own seat. I want you to imagine this every waking moment, particularly when you’re looking at the buy one get one free offer for custard creams in Tesco. Got it?’
‘Yeah,’ Mabel replied meekly .
‘Who’s next?’ Judy hollered.
Next was Phyllis. ‘I don’t eat that much,’ she wailed. ‘I’m sure it’s genetic with me; doesn’t matter what I do.’
‘Yes, it does matter, Phyllis!’ Judy rolled her eyes. ‘If I had a pound sterling for every person who informed me that their fat was genetic, I’d be a bloody rich woman by now. And on my yacht in the Caribbean or somewhere, not sorting out you lot!’
There were a few nervous titters before Judy started lecturing the group about people who deluded themselves and were hoping for sympathy more than weight loss.
‘Now you, Myra!’ She directed her stare at the braless lady who was finishing off the last of her breakfast. ‘Remind me, Myra, why you want to lose weight.’
Myra looked uncomfortable. She wasn’t overly large, just tubby round her middle like the majority of older women.
She cleared her throat. ‘I need to improve my appearance,’ she said, ‘because my husband has gone to live with another woman.’
There was an embarrassed silence.
‘And this woman,’ Myra went on, ‘is thin as a rake. No belly at all.’
I know this feeling only too well, Tess thought.
‘And, naturally enough, you want your husband back,’ Judy stated.
‘No,’ said Myra, ‘I don’t. I’m glad to see the back of him. I just want a flat belly, like hers. It’s become a sort of obsession, I suppose.’
‘Have you considered exercising?’ another woman asked, breaking the awkward silence.
‘Or finding a guy who likes bellies?’ someone else suggested, which lightened the mood and caused some giggling .
‘You’re doing this for you , Myra, and you alone.’ Judy stared hard. ‘You can have a flat belly! And, although exercise helps, exercise alone won’t do it. That’s why we’re all here.’ She shifted her gaze. ‘Tess!’
Tess jumped involuntarily.
‘You’ve not lost this week but you’ve been doing really well up to now. What went wrong?’
‘I’m not too sure,’ she said.
‘And tell us why you want to lose weight, Tess.’
‘For my daughter’s wedding at the end of July, and to feel better about myself.’
Judy closed her eyes and appeared to make some mental calculations. ‘That’s just over four months away,’ she said. ‘Have you bought your outfit yet?’
‘No,’ said Tess. She was aware that, what with making Amber’s dress plus the orders for Curvaceous, there would definitely be no time to make her own.
‘Right!’ said Judy. ‘I suggest you buy it one size smaller, hang it on the outside of your wardrobe door, look at it every single day, and damned well fit into it by July! OK, who’s next?’
There was a strange kind of fervour about Judy. She had this fanatical enthusiasm for spreading the word.
Never mind – I will lose that weight before July, Tess thought.