by Sandy McKay
All this writing I’m doing, yet I still feel like I’m going round and round in circles. I may as well tell you now, Issy. I’m not going to make it to the formal. It’s not going to happen. Please don’t be too mad.
Tell Mrs Hopkins the virus has mutated (is that the right word?). I know I’ve let you down, Issy, and I’m really sorry. But I figured if I let you know in plenty of time you could get someone else to double date with and to be honest I’m pretty crap company at the moment so I’d probably ruin it for you, anyway.
Hey … fancy Marko Deans asking Amanda. No wonder Dave S. had him swinging by the necktie. Some guys have the morals of a spider (especially the ones at Cameron College) and I think you did right getting a blind date. I know I was against the idea in the beginning but surely he can’t be any worse than a dickhead from our school.
So … how is the posh frock coming along? Lucky your mum is such a great seamstress. I think purple will be stunning with your red hair and don’t let that Meredith put you off. She’s always had a bit of a jealous streak.
Not much has been happening here lately. A new girl called Pip arrived last week. Poor thing. She looks totally petrified – like a mouse with a twitchy nose and little pink eyes. She has this posh accent and wears expensive pink clothes. Even the braces on her teeth are pink! She and Ingrid seem to get on okay though, which is good.
Yesterday Leon asked if she’d like to play Trivial Pursuit and she looked like he’d just asked her to get naked or something. I thought she was going to scamper up the bookcase in fright. Pity! It’d be good to have an extra player. I get sick of always coming last.
Still, at least it gives us an excuse to chat. Leon isn’t exactly what you’d call a ‘chatterbox’ but sometimes when we’re playing Trivial Pursuit he really opens up. Like the other day he told me some stuff about his family. He has an older sister who’s studying to be a doctor and his mum is a high-powered executive type who trains staff for (wait for it …) Jenny Craig! Somehow I don’t think having an anorexic son would be great for business. (Or maybe it would.) Anyway, his dad left them a few months ago and he and Leon don’t get on. I get the feeling his dad isn’t too keen on Leon being gay. Not that he said so. Well, actually Leon hasn’t said anything about being gay, either. But I think it’s highly possible and, like I said, he’s certainly got the voice for it.
Mind you, one thing I’ve learned from being in here is that appearances can be deceptive. Also, you never know what goes on inside other people’s heads.
For example – Kara came by my room the other day. She’s the Asian girl – very shy and nervous. Her nails are bitten right down so raw that sometimes they bleed. Anyway, she’s sitting on my bed looking like she has something really important to say.
‘There’s something I need to tell you, Jo,’ she says.
‘Okay. Fire away, Kara.’
Then she takes a deep breath and my heart is like pounding in anticipation for what’s coming next.
‘That painting’s crooked,’ she says.
‘Sorry?’
‘That painting’s crooked.’ Then she walks over to my lighthouse, straightens the painting (which wasn’t crooked in the first place) and wanders off.
Like I said, you never know what’s going on inside people’s heads and usually it’s not nearly as interesting as you think.
Keep writing.
Luv,
Jo
Dear Diary,
I’ve just come back from a group session. Veronica wanted us to talk about the progress we’re making. No one said much. Kara picked at her jumper and kept her feet in perfectly correct alignment; Ingrid was a hundred miles away (probably on some imaginary training run or other) and Pip just stared out the window. Leon jiggled his right leg, chewed his lip and looked totally pissed off.
‘Is there something you’d like to share with us, Leon?’ says Veronica.
Leon chewed his lip some more and jiggled a bit harder.
‘We’re waiting, Leon.’
And then the sparks started to fly. ‘What is it with you guys?’ he snapped and Veronica looked gobsmacked.
‘Pardon?’
‘You never know when to let up, do you? You’re always harping on at us about making progress. Getting better. Nag. Nag. Nag.’
‘Well, er …’
‘Has it ever crossed your mind that some of us might be happy as we are? That, well, maybe we don’t want to make progress.’ (He said the word ‘progress’ with a real sarcastic whine in his voice.)
‘Are you happy as you are, Leon?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Really?’
He thought about it, then said ‘Yeah, well … who says I’d be any happier if I was fat?’
‘But the goal isn’t to get fat, Leon.’ Veronica was back in full therapist mode now. ‘The goal is to get healthy – functioning at a healthy weight. It’s not normal to –’
‘And who gets to define this healthy weight exactly?’ – Leon.
‘A healthy weight is when your kidneys aren’t collapsing.’ – Veronica. ‘A healthy weight is when your potassium levels are normal and your bowels are functioning.’
‘You just want to take control,’ – Leon. ‘This is the only thing we have left and you want to take it away…’
‘Have you seen Francine lately?’ – Veronica. ‘Have you seen what being in control has done for her?’
‘She’s doing what she wants to do, isn’t she?’ – Leon. ‘It’s a free world, isn’t it?’
‘Do you really believe that, Leon?’
I tried talking to Leon later because I wanted to make sure he was okay. And also because I was interested in what he said about having control. Because that’s how I feel sometimes. I guess I wondered if he felt the same as me. What he said was interesting: ‘When I first stopped eating it was like I was taking a stand. Taking control of something. It annoyed the hell out of Mum but she couldn’t do anything about it. I guess I quite liked that. It was me in charge for once.’
‘Are you still in charge now, then?’ I asked him.
He couldn’t answer that. He just shrugged like he wasn’t sure of anything any more.
We played Trivial Pursuit after tea. TP questions are totally random and utterly impossible.
P.S. Example! What did Joe Cocker buy for $60 in Sydney in October, 1972?
Marijuana.
Friggin’ idiot!!!
Dear Diary,
‘Dear Diary’ – How corny is that. Sounds like a little kid about to spill her secrets, which is strange because when I woke up this morning I was a little kid again – back home in Cutler Street. It was weird. Surreal. Like Mum and Dad were in the kitchen making breakfast and I was sitting at the table dribbling golden syrup onto my porridge and licking the spoon. Mum looked amazing. Like she was Mum, but she wasn’t – if you know what I mean. Then she picked out the shiniest apple from the bowl to put in my lunchbox and she was smiling. (Kind of oddly.) Then Dad pecked her cheek and said ‘Bye, Honey’ (just like on the tele). And the sky was blue and the sun was shining and all was well with the world.
But when I woke up I was in a hospital bed and the sky was grey and it was pissing down with rain. And there was a sick feeling in my tummy, knowing that breakfast was in the common room in half an hour. I so dread meal times. Skiddling scrambled egg around my plate for hours. Being under constant surveillance … Honestly, this place can be so suffocating.
Leon and Caroline had a ripper argument this afternoon.
Caroline was watching Oprah on TV3 and Leon kept changing channels. We all have him on about liking the ‘Bob’ cartoons. His favourite is Bob the Builder but he’s quite fond of Sponge Bob too. Anyway, Caroline got up and changed it back, which was when the argument started.
Leon – ‘I don’t know how you can watch that rubbish. It’s pathetic navel-gazing crap.’
Caroline – ‘You can talk – cartoon man…’
Oprah – ‘We’re having a “girls’ part
y” today.’ Big toothy grin.
Then Leon rolls his eyes and says ‘A girls’ party, huh!’ and changes back to Sponge Bob Square Pants. On the tele, a girl called Melissa is telling Oprah all about how she lost her virginity at sixteen. ‘I slept with everyone in sight and had to change schools,’ she says, which for some reason gets right up Leon’s nose.
‘Don’t tell us your problems lady,’ he says.
‘Melissa is obviously hungry for something,’ says Oprah, oblivious to the trouble brewing in a psych ward on the other side of the world. ‘And, as women, we have to start filling ourselves up with things that make us feel whole and valuable, not worthless and cheap.’ (Or something to that effect.)
‘Give us a break!’ says Leon, which prompts Caroline to hurl a coffee cup at him. (Polystyrene, luckily.)
‘Have a heart, arsehole,’ she says.
‘A lot of young girls treat their bodies like trash cans…’ Oprah continues.
‘Well, that’s their bloody lookout,’ says Leon.
‘And men will drop their trash in our bodies if we let them –’ says Oprah.
That’s when Leon stomps out.
And Caroline, looking all surprised, says, in this really childish voice: ‘What’s burning his biscuits today, Jo?’
How the heck should I know? But I guess it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Leon must feel pretty outnumbered by females in here.
Two days later:
I think Veronica must watch Oprah as well – to get ideas, I mean.
Today she asked us what we would wish for if our fairy godmother appeared. But don’t hold your breath for anything earth-shattering. Kara just shrugged her shoulders and didn’t wish for anything. Pip wished she could make her mum and dad happy, which was just about the saddest and most pathetic thing I’d ever heard. (Even sadder knowing that she meant it.)
Ingrid bit her lip and looked like she was going to burst into tears, as usual.
Leon said he’d like to write a song for Bob Dylan to sing, which I thought was pretty awesome. And at least he’d thought about it. As for me, my mind went completely blank. Well, there was one thing.
Veronica perked up. ‘And what’s that, Jo?’
I looked down at the floor because I was too scared to say it out loud. Too scared to hear my own voice crack. ‘To have Mum back,’ I said.
Must go,
Jo
Dear Issy,
Did you know that a spider has an exoskeleton that she has to shed in order to grow? Creepy, huh? Which explains why you see those headless spider bodies lying about on windowsills. Although, when you think about it shedding your own body is actually quite a cool concept. A good chance to start again.
Speaking of which … I had an interesting conversation with Dot last night. We were talking about people reinventing themselves and how amazing it would be to start your life over – like slipping into a new skin. Dot said the first thing she’d change would be her name. She reckons ‘Dot’ is kind of inappropriate for someone who weighs 98 kilos. I guess she has a point. ‘They would’ve been better off calling me “Blob”,’ she says. Poor Dot.
Dear Mum,
Two fat blokes are in a pub. One says to the other, ‘Your round.’
The other says: ‘So are you, you fat git.’
My best friend, Issy, sent me a joke book. She knows it’s hard work being gifted and talented and hospital camp can be hard going especially when everyone at school is gearing up for the major event of the year, which is the senior formal dance. Gifted and talented people take themselves very seriously. Well, I guess they have to, because no one else does.
Luv,
Jo
Group Therapy Homework:
Things I can do without:
Fat thighs
Group therapy
KFC
Things I can’t do without:
Throwing up
Anorexia
Issy’s letters
Things I fear:
Death by starvation
Bird flu
Going back to school
Car crashes
Opening my big gob
Dear Sis,
This week we made pizza. I had to wrap mine in loo paper (unused!) because Martin Wainwright used the last paper napkin. I hope you like it. It will taste better if you heat it in the microwave first. (Twenty seconds on high should do it. Dad and I are getting good at the microwave now.) Do they have microwaves there?
Sorry there’s no cheese but Martin Wainwright used the last of that as well. So I put on more chilli sauce instead.
Luv,
Matt
Recipe for Pizza
Make scone dough. Roll into a ball. Then roll out flat. Spread on chilli sauce. Add other stuff, like pineapple, bacon and cheese. Bake in hot oven until cooked.
Yum!
P.S. Thanks for that spider stuff. Cool.
P.P.S. Poor Mrs Ramsay got done for shoplifting again. It said in the paper that she pinched a garden fork from K-Mart, which Dad says is really silly cause she could buy herself a million garden forks if she wanted to.
Dear Matt,
Thanks for the pizza. It was perfect, especially the crust, which was nice and crunchy.
How is Sushi? How is Mrs Jordan?
I hope you are working hard at school.
Luv,
Jo
P.S. I think you need to do something about that Martin Wainwright.
P.P.S. Give Sushi a pat for me and tell her congratulations about the kittens.
P.P.P.S. Re: Mrs Ramsay – sometimes people do the strangest things, don’t they? And for no apparent reason.
Dear Jo,
What say I just come visit for half an hour? We need to talk. I’ve spoken with the doctor and he thinks so too.
Please, Jo. Please let me visit.
Missing you heaps,
Love always,
Dad
Toilet Graffiti:
All we have left is the power to refuse.
D,
(Sounds slightly better than ‘dear diary’ – more direct and less flowery.) To the point. That’s me.
Today I feel sick.
Sick of being inside my own head. It’s such a mess in here. A stuffed up mess. They nag at me to eat but I’m scared because I know that once I start I won’t be able to stop. I’ll just eat and eat and eat until I burst like a big fat bubble.
Like the first time I binged.
It was because of Aunty Kay. Well, it wasn’t actually her fault or anything. But she was staying with us. Aunty Kay is Mum’s sister. I mean WAS Mum’s sister. (No, that’s not right either. Are you still someone’s sister if they die?)
Anyway, she had this new baby called Zak and they came to stay with us for the weekend, which I really hated. I’m not even sure why. I just felt crap with everyone playing happy families. Like I was in the way. Aunty Kay is so different since she’s had the baby. It’s weird. Everyone wanted to hold it except for me. That’s all they wanted to do. Even Matt. What a fuss. Like, he had to sit on the couch with cushions propped up everywhere and the baby’s head had to be exactly right and it was all a big drama with Uncle Brian taking photos every time the baby even opened its mouth. Then, when it pooed, it was some, like, major medical emergency.
Fuss. Fuss. Fuss. Dad said Zak looked just like Matt did when he was a baby, which isn’t surprising considering everyone says how much Aunty Kay looks like Mum. Dad said a lot of stuff that weekend. He was getting all nostalgic and I guess it made me feel guilty.
It felt weird watching Aunty Kay with the baby too. Hard to explain. I guess I felt confused and … jealous, maybe. And when they left I felt sad. And then I felt guilty again.
And that’s when I started pigging out. I was cleaning up after dinner and instead of putting the leftovers in the fridge I put them straight in my mouth. We’d had spaghetti bolognaise and garlic bread and I just stuffed everything in. Packed it all down my neck. And o
nce I started I couldn’t stop. It was like I’d found this hole and I was plugging it up with food.
When I finished I felt sick and full and disgusting – like a big fat pig. And I had to go lie down on the bed because I felt so revolting and then I thought ‘if only I could get rid of it’. And that’s when I made myself sick. That’s the first time I ever put my fingers down my throat… The first time ever…
Must write to Issy again soon.
D,
God, I hate hospitals!
The smell of disinfectant – everything all stiff and starchy. It’s like being cut off from the world, because when you look out the window people are just going about their business without you. And you think, how dare they? How dare they carry on like that without you? It’s like no one even knows you’re up there – all flattened into nothing, with starched sheets and nurses and doctors telling you what to do all day. I feel like taking one of those stupid sheets and writing ‘Help!’ in big fat letters with orange lipstick or tomato sauce or something and dangling it out the window. Except that there are all these humungously high hedges everywhere so probably no one would even notice. Maybe that’s why they grew the hedges in the first place. Maybe there have been escape missions in the past with patients abseiling to freedom on knotted hospital sheets…
Nah!
It was scary when Mum went into hospital. At first Dad said it was going to be for just the one night. Only it wasn’t because she stayed for weeks. Aunty Kay wasn’t married then so she came to help look after us.
I remember going to visit Mum with Dad and Aunty Kay. She was propped up in bed with pillows – a red cardy draped around her shoulders, her hair sticking out funny and no lipstick on. Slow motion Mum with this weird slurry voice and dead-bird eyes.
