My Fat, Mad Teenage Diary

by Rae Earl

  Spent an hour on the phone to Mort. She is lending me a skirt she got from Black Orchid – the posh shop in the arcade. It’s got an elasticated waist so it should fit. Apparently I have also got to put my collar up – bit Sloaney but it’s a look blokes at the boys’ school go for apparently.

  Mum hasn’t cracked yet and this is the second week of the diet. I’ve been willing her to fail. Yes, I am a cow.

  Tuesday 7.3.89

  TWO HOURS TO ‘H’ TIME!!! (STUDY ROOM 3)

  Could barely eat this lunchtime – too excited. And it was sausages! Mort has brought the skirt in and it looks OK. So nervous I could boff.

  LATE

  Crying my pigging eyes out.

  Not going out with him any more.

  PERSONALITY

  Men say that you have personality

  Men say you make them smile

  But all that don’t mean a thing

  When your waist measurement’s half a mile.

  For men put first the pretty girl

  And the size-10 clothes she’s got

  And charisma is as useful as

  A chocolate teapot.

  Even my poetry doesn’t scan.

  Weird thoughts so bad.

  Can’t be bothered to tell you what’s wrong because it’s all wrong.

  Wednesday 8.3.89

  TRIED TO GET OFF SCHOOL sick today but Mum was having none of it. I could have skived, but where would I go with no money? And it was pissing it down. At least you get fed at school. And I ate today. Don’t fucking care. No point in being pretty. You still get shit on, shit on, shit on.

  Yes, Harry thing completely buggered. I went down to his study in his boarding house. He was acting dead strangely – showing me his bloody A-level English essay (it was shit! The first line said, ‘All great books have a beginning, a middle and an end . . .’ Errr . . . yeah, but what’s that got to do with Jane Austen?) so I took the piss slightly only as a joke. Then he got really odd and asked if I’d always been big. Then HONESTLY this happened:

  H: I feel like I have been pushed into this but I lose nothing by going out with you.

  ME: Pardon?

  H: People said that you liked me and I felt pressured into getting off with you and asking you out.

  ME: Oh.

  (Massive pause.)

  ME: OK, then. I’ll finish it . . . and I’ll ask you out so you don’t feel pressured or pushed into anything. Will you go out with me?

  H: No. But I would like to be friends, though.

  ME: OK. Do you want to meet down the Meadows tomorrow?

  H: I don’t think that would be a good idea, do you?

  And that was it. I walked home up New Cross Road sobbing my eyes out. People looked but no one asked how I was.

  Of course news had already got round. Somebody’s boyfriend had told them, who had told everyone else. Bethany was looking triumphant and had her ‘I told you so’ mocking sympathetic smile on – head tilted to one side trying to look like she was genuinely sad. I could see she was gloating beyond belief. Apparently I should not have taken the piss because ‘Boys need to feel good about themselves, as they are as vulnerable as us.’ Are they hell as like. The rules for them are all different. There’s a bloke who must weigh 17 stone in the upper sixth and he still gets women dropping at his feet.

  Now I don’t fancy anyone. Pretty sick really. Feel awful inside – like all my insides have been ripped open.

  I have been listening to ‘I Should Have Known Better’ by Jim Diamond again and again and again. To be fair, it is about a bloke who has been knobbing around and doesn’t exactly fit my situation but sod it. It’s sad and wailing and that’s how I feel. This will takes ages to get over. This is life-changing stuff.

  Thursday 9.3.89

  2.46 p.m.

  I’M SAT IN THE LIBRARY because I just don’t want to hear another story of how great someone’s boyfriend is. You think people would have a bit more sympathy. I am going through my first break-up with someone and they are saying how their gorgeous boyfriend bought them a Zodiac Garfield as a surprise present. Whoopee. And then another one says, ‘Shall I go on the pill or not?’ Like it’s important?? And I’m sick of the questions about Harry – I have never been so pleased of the library silence rule in my entire life. You can’t even get away from it in my A-level courses – everyone is either in love or doing it.

  Theatre arts – we are doing Restoration comedy. EVERYONE is shagging. Even the main character in the play is called HORNER! I’m not making this up.

  English – Chaucer’s Franklin’s Tale from The Canterbury Tales – all about undying love between this knight that goes to war and his Mrs. She even gets pursued while he is away. And they say it used to be harder for women!

  History – Ferdinand and Isabella loving each other in Spain while murdering who they like. Catherine de Medici wearing no knickers and having great parties.

  Politics – well, politicians are all at it anyway. Whatever country’s parliament we are studying you can guarantee they are at it like rabbits. Even Mrs Thatcher has got Denis.

  Going to go home. Eat tea. Go to bed and get away from every person on this earth except the cat. Don’t want to see my mum in a chair drinking a bowl of mush looking miserable. She’s put herself on this self-inflicted diet torture plan. And she slurps like a horse when she drinks.

  It makes me feel sick when I think of Harry. But I still keep eating. Caught in this mess of a body. Can’t get out.

  Friday 10.3.89

  DIDN’T GO OUT TONIGHT. AT lunch had chips and it gave me the world’s worst indigestion – I thought I was dying. Plus the fact don’t want to see Harry. Don’t want to see anyone. Mum came upstairs to bring me my washing and said, ‘Look, Rachel, what’s the matter?’ She sat on the end of the bed and I told her that I had basically been dumped. She said, ‘Men don’t know their arse from their elbow. They don’t know it when they are 17, and they don’t know it when they are 70, Rachel. You are going to have lots of these disappointments in your life, because life isn’t fair. It never was and it never will be. Concentrate on your A levels and forget men. I am trying to. Now – I’m going to make a macaroni cheese to cheer us both up.’ And she did. And we sat down and watched a video of Dynasty as we both love Dex Dexter.

  WHY CAN’T SHE BE LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME? I know she can’t hug me or anything but this is fine. This is what I need. Just a bit of support.

  Just realised that Mum’s off the Cambridge Diet as I don’t think pasta with half a ton of Red Leicester on it is part of the programme.

  Saturday 11.3.89

  Late (it’s probably Sunday)

  MUM HAS BEEN GOING FOR it today food-wise. She has fallen off the wagon big time. There was egg, bacon and fried bread for breakfast. We had a Nelsons sausage roll coming back from town. She sat there fiddling with her hands this afternoon and made herself another sandwich and then she suggested to me that we had chilli con carne and chips for tea. I told her I was going out, and she goes, ‘I’ll save you some for when you get home.’ And she has too! There is masses of it.

  Just been down the pub ON MY OWN. Thought, ‘Stuff it – I’m not waiting for Bethany.’ I cannot be doing with her any more. It’s like she bullies me in a really clever way. Don’t get me wrong – she doesn’t hit me or any thing – it’s just the little comments about my weight, and the way she was about Harry. I’m not being melodramatic but she seems to take real pleasure in my pain.

  Anyway, I went down the Vaults and Harry was NOT there, BUT Battered Sausage, Haddock and Fig were!! Battered Sausage yelled across the bar, ‘Big Razza, come over here,’ and we had a BRILLIANT laugh. We played a drinking game called Captain Birds Eye – what a gig. Can’t remember the rules but it was funny. Fig was great too – he was showing how he walked like a penguin, but Haddock just sat there looking naffed off with everything and giving me the evils. He said (sorry – grunted) about three sentences to me. Out of the blue he just comes out with, ‘What
happened with you and Harry, then?’ I said, ‘I don’t really want to talk about it,’ and he goes, ‘Fine – I don’t really want to know.’ He is such a moody git. He is gorgeous but he bloody knows it.

  Bethany came in looking flustered about half an hour after me. She gave me a right death-stare in the pub but I don’t care. She came over and sat on Battered Sausage’s knee and said to me, ‘Why didn’t you wait for me?’ I made up something lame. She was so pissed off because I was getting all the attention – even Haddock was pissing himself when I was telling them about the time when I had a body search at a Turkish airport and the woman customs official thought I was a bloke. Eventually she said, ‘I don’t feel well – I’m going home.’ No one rushed to stop her. Certainly not me.

  Walked home via Lord Burghley pub and spotted Luke. He waved at me and smiled. I must say, I really like Luke but I think I probably need some space before I launch into another relationship.

  Mum has just stormed in to say that the ding of the microwave woke her up. Did she want me to eat her chilli con carne or not?

  Sunday 12.3.89

  9.30 p.m.

  MUM IS ON ONE. TODAY we had a STARTER with the roast as well as a pudding. I said, ‘Mum, we only have prawn cocktails at Christmas!’ She just grunted. Something is wrong. Really wrong. She sent me down Green Lane shops for some milk and the usual bunch of pillocks were on the wall. But ever since I claimed I was related to Reggie Kray they have left me well alone. God, I hope they don’t write to him in prison and check. When I came back with the milk it looked like Mum had been crying and we had four pints of milk in the fridge already. I said, ‘Why did you send me to get some more milk?’ She said something stupid like, ‘You can never have enough milk, Rachel.’ I left it at that. I’ve got to do an essay on The Tempest. I can’t get into emotional turmoil.

  Been thinking about Luke. A lot. And been thinking about Bethany. I do need to be more understanding. Perhaps I was a bit harsh last night.

  Monday 13.3.89

  11.40 p.m.

  I CANNOT BELIEVE WHAT HAS HAPPENED today and I am telling you, Diary, I just wish you could talk.

  I went down town at lunchtime to meet everyone for a jacket potato. Bethany was there surrounded by a crowd of people. When I got near I could see that Bethany was crying a bit and everyone death-stared me and someone said, ‘Why are you being such a bitch to Bethany?’

  Bethany had told everyone the following:

  1) I stood her up on Saturday and left her in the rain.

  2) I told Battered Sausage Bethany was an ignorant cow.

  3) Ever since I’d had a boyfriend I’d ‘changed’!.

  4) I am jealous of her because of her fast metabolism.

  Only no. 4 is true.

  To stop a riot I said, ‘Look – let’s go down the Meadows and have a chat.’ So we ended up feeding the ducks while Bethany grilled me with loads of questions. She knew what she was doing. She soon cheered up when we were on our own.

  B: Why have you fallen out with me?

  ME: I haven’t.

  B: Why didn’t you want to go with me to the pub?

  ME: I just wanted to go on my own for a change.

  B: I felt really hurt and embarrassed and it was

  obvious you had been slagging me off to Battered Sausage.

  ME: I had not!! We’d been playing a drinking game.

  B: I have always supported you and tried to help you. Is it too much to ask that you wait five minutes for me?

  ME: No it’s not.

  So eventually I completely backed down and apologised for NOTHING. She was instantly fine – surprise, surprise. We walked home with her telling me about all the men that fancied her and topped it off with a talk on what hairstyles suit bigger girls like me.

  I think I might be doing a lot of mock A-level revision these next two weeks.

  At least she is mates with Luke. That’s one thing in her favour.

  Tuesday 14.3.89

  10.57 p.m.

  SPENT ALL DAY AVOIDING SCHOOLWORK and Bethany! Cleaned out my big cupboard and found a load of old annuals. Read Judy from about 1979 (great Dial-a-Boyfriend game and a poster of the Carpenters – poor woman – she died of thinness), Mandy from 1980 (bit disappointing) and The Smash Hits Yearbook from 1984, in which George Michael was going on about how his mum still got him up for work! Now he’s all grown up and singing about wanting sex he won’t want to be reminded of that. AND in the bit where it said watch out in ’84 for these new artists, it says MADONNA. Which seems bizarre now. Mind you, it also says watch out for a group called Physique, who I have never heard of – so they weren’t all right.

  Before I knew it Bethany was calling for me to go down the pub. I was going to ignore the door but Mum answered it and shouted me down. (I’m sure she knew I was hiding.) On the way there Bethany was asking me who I liked. I said Luke. As quick as a flash she said, ‘No chance – his parents are loaded.’ Then she said (as a joke), ‘You could be his bit of rough, I suppose.’ I also said in a strictly physical sense I fancied Haddock but this was in much the same way as I fancied Nick Kamen from the 501 adverts and David Sylvian from Japan. Bethany pointed out both Haddock and Luke have girlfriends. Fuck knows who goes out with Haddock but she must have the patience of a saint to put up with that grumpy git. Anyway, I left it there. Or rather she did. Apparently a bloke from Stamford College has asked her out for a drink on Saturday and she wanted to tell me all about how he had got talking to her in the pub and what he had said. He does car mechanics, wants to specialise in high-performance vehicles, and she reminds him of Belinda Carlisle. Why does she think that is interesting to me?? Anyway, I tuned out and went with my fantasy of Luke into dreamland.

  Down the pub. No one was out. Bethany talked at me for three hours. We came home. I had a KitKat.

  Lonely. Feel lonely. And empty.

  Wednesday 15.3.89

  WAS ON THE WAY TO call Mort tonight when I passed a toddler who turned round to his mum and said, ‘Mummy, why is that girl so fat?’ I raced by – I saw his mum smirk half embarrassment/half amusement. What could I do? I can’t threaten a toddler with the fact that I am related to Reggie Kray, can I?

  By the time I rang Mort I was crying. She was so sweet about it and said, ‘Kids say stupid stuff all the time,’ but it hurts even as I am writing this. It’s like everywhere I go I am pointed out and stared at by EVERYONE and it’s like my weight is there to be discussed and laughed at. But if I was in a wheelchair they wouldn’t do it. If I had terrible scars they wouldn’t do it – but it’s OK to do it to me. Because they know. I caused this. This is self-inflicted. This is lazy, stupid, careless, crap, fat me. And the only way to make myself feel better right now is to punch myself as hard as I can . . . cry, cry, CRY . . . not tell anyone . . . and pretend everything is brilliant because no one gives a shit. Sorry if this doesn’t make sense but that’s how it is right now. That’s how it is. No one is coming to save me. This is how it’s always been. It’s like the Alarm song where they go on about leaving all the pain behind by running away from it all. But I can’t. It’s here. It’s everywhere. In a room with a door that doesn’t close properly. With a mother who hates me. With a belly that looks like a ton of dough stuck to my body.

  Thursday 16.3.89

  Late

  NOTHING TO TELL YOU. DON’T want to go out. I just get stared at. I’d rather stay inside my bedroom – just me and the cat – and listen to Simple Minds.

  Weird thoughts all over the place and just crippling.

  Friday 17.3.89

  Made myself go out. I still hurt a bit but not as much.

  HARRY CAME INTO THE PUB. Bethany told him that he broke my heart and he said, ‘Is that good or bad?’ I felt like saying you can’t break wrought iron. I disliked him intensely then. But in a way it was more like ‘Why don’t you fancy me, Harry, you bastard?’

  Luke was in!! He came over to talk to me and Bethany and for some reason me and him got into a food fight. He
threw a packet of Skips at the back of my neck, so I shoved a packet of peanuts in his face. If I like a bloke I just end up ripping the piss out of him rather than being nice. Now he keeps reminding me that we are due a fight. I can make such a good impression, can’t I?

  I really want to go out with Luke. I really do. I bloody fancy him, and more importantly I LIKE him. Unfortunately several factors point towards this being yet another let-down:

  1) Luke probably does not fancy me.

  2) According to Bethany he has got a girlfriend and she’s gorgeous.

  3) Apparently he is not really into ‘heavy relation ships’. What’s his definition of ‘heavy’.

  4) Even if he was, his A levels are approaching.

  5) Just going back to no. 1 – I think we can quite confidently swap probably for definitely.

  Saturday 18.3.89

  11.53 p.m.

  MET UP WITH BETHANY’S DATE at the pub tonight. He seemed a bit dim but I have to admit he was attractive in a pretty-boy way. Anyway, they were asking each other stupid questions like what’s your star sign (he’s a Leo). Bethany said, ‘Oh, the proud lion, and you’ve even got a thick mane of hair.’ He wet himself at this utterly crap non-joke, so I went and sat with Battered Sausage and Fig, who are just lovely beyond belief. I told Battered Sausage I slightly fancied Haddock in a physical sense and Luke in an altogether sense. He pissed himself at this but promised not to tell either of them. Haddock came in later with his usual pissy stomp, but tonight at least he asked me how I was – even though by the time I answered he was at the bar. Battered Sausage said I should give him a chance because he is ‘really all right underneath it all’. No he is not. He is a typical rugger-bugger lad who probably does anal-chugging with beer and talks about tits till he is blue in the face.