Chapter 34
Here we are at summer term. Except it’s not really summer. That still feels a long way off yet, since Queen Anne’s College basically reserves the whole of the so-called summer term for revision, essays and exams. Much to do before actual summer.
Felix has been keeping his distance, which isn’t surprising. Everything got so messy so fast with him. It was all meant to be a bit of fun and it’s turned out not to be fun at all.
When it comes to Laurie, I don’t want to be charging head-first into things like I always do, so I’ve been biding my time. I realise I really like him and I don’t want to mess it up by accident before it’s started. If anything will start . . . I don’t want to mess up my exams either!
In the meantime, the club night and the podcast have kept me focused, along with a steady stream of questions. Here was one I really, really loved answering:
Hey, Genius,
Whenever I see you around campus, you always look so gorgeous and confident.
You’re always wearing something eye-catching, and the fact that you give out dating advice suggests you’re not short of people interested in you.
I just don’t know how to achieve that for myself.
I’m about the same size as you and I feel like my weight has always held me back from .
. . pretty much everything. I guess I just have this voice in the back of my head that says, ‘Why would anyone be into you when they have the option to go out with someone else who’s thinner?
’ And I tell myself that I’ll wear better clothes when I’m not so fat, but I don’t know if that day will ever come, so I feel stuck!
I just can’t bring myself to believe that anyone would ever like me like that. How do I be more like you? Help!
Love,
Fat Girl in Limbo
Dear Fat Girl in Limbo,
Thank you so much for sending me this – I know it takes a lot of courage to talk about this stuff when it’s such a source of anxiety.
First, I have no doubt that you are wonderful, gorgeous and interesting.
Simply no doubt about it in my mind. And second, I would hazard a guess that you really don’t need to be more like me!
You need to be more like you. What would you be wearing if you hadn’t told yourself fashion was for other people?
Who do you have a crush on? What would you be doing with the time and energy that you spend holding yourself back?
I’m certain that dyeing your hair pink and wearing ostentatious clothes won’t solve your problem, but I know that there’s a version of yourself that you’re not allowing to live fully, and she deserves to.
What’s the alternative? Holding her back for years, or even decades?
Wouldn’t it be exciting to find out what would happen if you lived the life you want now?
It sounds fun to me, I have to say! I’m excited for you!
In terms of your style, start by identifying the magic components of how you think you would dress if your body looked different.
What excites you? What makes you feel comfortable?
How can you adapt those ‘comfort’ styles to be closer to the way you want to dress?
Would you dress more masculine? More feminine?
More sleek? More playful? More daring? More minimalist?
And if you can’t put your finger on it and take action, maybe your style is fine but you’re being bamboozled by the lure of thinness and the nebulous belief that you’ll just wake up stylish if you get thin enough.
Ain’t gonna happen! Style comes from within, my friend, so you’d better start cultivating it now, on your own terms.
And now we come to dating, another area I simply love thinking about.
One thing you need to understand is that the human mind and human sexuality is an unpredictable beast. It defies logic!
I know we talk about people having a ‘type’, but really, if you delve deep into your brain and think about all the people you’ve ever fancied, were they all the same?
Or were they kind of different? And can you always explain what you liked about them?
I would guess the answers to those questions are ‘no’, ‘yes’ and ‘no’.
This school year I would say I’ve had two major crushes, and they couldn’t be more different in terms of looks and personality.
And yes, that extends to body size! Because there is nothing more gorgeous in the world than the sheer variety of humans.
So to count yourself out of the running when it comes to romance is to deprive both yourself and other people of gorgeous, fun, thrilling experiences where you get to figure out what you like and what you want.
I guarantee there is a long, cosmic list of people who have already fancied you in your life, but you had no idea because you weren’t looking for the signs, because you believed yourself to be an undesirable person.
I don’t even need to see you to know that’s not true.
I could not be more excited for you, and I hope you take action ASAP!
Love,
Genius of Love
I felt like I was able to do a good deed with that one .
. . it’s sort of the point of why I do the podcast. But now exam season has crashed into me like a ten-tonne truck.
Morgan and Aleesha have both gone back to their family homes to revise until the exams start, but I didn’t think to do the same, and I’m .
. . well, I’m sort of regretting it. I find I’m thinking about Laurie more than I want to, what with the weird silence since the stand-off with Felix at my flat.
I’ve been giving him space; he’s been keeping his distance.
It’s like we’re both scared of making a move in case it .
. . I don’t know, spooks the other, like we’re nervous horses.
Anyway, I could do with a bit of company.
And I think, with a little lump in my throat, my mum could probably do with a bit of company too.
She’s not used to being on her own either.
Maybe answering that question for the podcast made me think of her.
It made me realise that I was never brought up to feel bad about my body, and that this in itself might be a miracle.
I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been too hard on her.
Alone in my living room, I take a deep breath and pick up my phone.
‘Hello, darling, everything all right?’ Mum says as soon as she answers.
‘I’m fine, how are you?’
‘Oh, you know . . . up and down, but this hallway won’t paint itself!’
Instead of sighing and telling her off for embarking on yet another transformation, I ask, ‘What colour?’
‘A gorgeous hot pink – it was Stephen’s one objection so I thought I should honour it while he was around.
And, you know, he’s . . . not around any more!
’ She says it brightly, but I can hear the pain in her voice no matter how hard she tries to conceal it.
I was relieved that Stephen did decide to come clean to my mum and saved me the job.
It was strange seeing this person who for so long I had just thought of as ‘some guy’ (even though he was technically my stepdad) wreak so much havoc on her.
It was as if he had removed the wrong brick from the Jenga tower and her whole sense of self had come tumbling down.
I’ve tried to see her more since then but never had the feeling that it was quite enough.
All of which made this an even better idea.
‘It sounds perfect. I’d love to see it actually. I was thinking . . .’
‘Yes?’ Mum says eagerly.
‘I’ve got my exams coming up, and I could always come and revise at your house. Morgan and Aleesha are away, so I’m on my own here and –’
‘Yes, do come,’ she says, much too quickly. ‘It would be so lovely to have you here.’
‘OK,’ I say, a feeling of relief washing over me.
‘Do you want me to come and pick you up, darling? I don’t mind driving.’
‘No, that’s OK, I don’t mind taking the train.’
‘If you’re sure?’
‘I’m sure. And maybe I’ll come . . . this evening? If that’s not too soon?’
‘Well, that’s just wonderful. I’ll have a quick tidy up and I’ll look forward to seeing you later. Bye, darling.’
‘Bye, Mum,’ I say before hanging up. I really hope this isn’t a mistake, but deep down I’m pretty sure it’s not.
* * *
Once I’ve packed all my notes and clothes and whatever else a girl needs for a couple of weeks of solid toil, I head to the tube station and cruise down to London Bridge to hop on the train.
The whole journey literally takes me less than an hour, and the fact that I’ve made so little effort to go home and see my mum over the past month fills me with a shame so burning I feel my cheeks heat up as I stare out of the window for the mere ten minutes it takes to get from London Bridge to Deptford.
But it’s not like she has been desperately trying to make plans with me either .
. . Then again, she’s had a lot going on .
. . but then again, so have I. Maybe I should cut myself some slack.
Draw a line under it and try to do better.
That’s what I’m doing now, right? That’s why I’m going, to keep her company.
‘Hello, darling!’ she says, drawing me into a tight hug as soon as I step through the door of the small but perfectly formed terraced house to the smell of fresh paint. ‘Be careful! Don’t touch the walls!’
The hot pink, I have to admit, does look extremely cool. But then again, so did the gentle duck egg before it, and the Yves Klein blue before that, and the stark white before that. It always looks good. There’s never anything wrong with it.
‘Looks great,’ I say, skirting my way through the hall with my bags and into the little living room. ‘Very chic.’
‘Chic is what we aim for, darling!’ she says, and I’m pretty sure I’ve said those exact words myself in the not-too-distant past. The thought of it brings a smile to my face. ‘What are you smiling about?’ she asks lightly.