The Curvy Girls Club

by Michele Gorman

  ‘Have you had a good week?’ Lame.

  ‘Yes, very good, thanks.’ He fiddled with his pint.

  ‘Good, good. Working?’

  He nodded. ‘Has your week been good?’

  ‘Yes, fine.’

  ‘I tried that new restaurant,’ he said. ‘Remember, the one in Clapham I mentioned?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Was it good?’ Clapham was miles away from his flat, and work. I wondered who he’d taken there.

  ‘It was very good.’ He smiled.

  The watch beeped. Ding a ling ling ling. ‘Gentlemen, please move to the next lady. Don’t forget to write your notes first.’

  ‘Good for you.’ I nodded. ‘Maybe I’ll try it some time.’

  …

  ‘You could always go with your colleague,’ he said.

  Oh. Then we weren’t avoiding this. I searched his impassive face. Two could play at that game.

  ‘Is it romantic, for dates I mean?’ I crossed my arms.

  ‘Very. Candles everywhere. Nice little tucked-away tables.’

  Nice to know that he wined and dined all his dates. Silly me; I’d thought he’d been imaginative. My mind flew back to our candle-lit restaurant with the tucked-away table. Despite getting angrier, my body tingled thinking about him touching my leg and stroking my hand that night. Traitorous body.

  ‘I suppose it’s easy to have a good time in surroundings like that,’ I said. ‘It wouldn’t really matter who you were with.’

  ‘Ah, but it does matter—’

  Ding a ling ling ling …

  ‘Sorry to interrupt. Must keep to the time,’ I said. ‘You were saying?’

  ‘I was saying that it does matter who you’re with. If, for example, you’re with a very good friend, you’d definitely have a good time.’

  ‘Or with a lover, I suppose, you’re guaranteed a memorable night.’

  ‘That depends on whether the lover is right for you,’ he said. ‘If not then it’s just another date. It might be fun for that night, but you’d soon forget all about it and move on.’

  So I’d been just another date. ‘Still, it’s sad when that happens,’ I said truthfully. I didn’t want to be awkward any more. ‘Especially if you’re perfect.’

  ‘Yes, it’s such a loss to the world when it doesn’t work out for perfect people,’ he said bitterly.

  I’d never seen that hardness in him before. Had I missed part of the conversation? ‘What?’

  ‘Ring the bell.’

  Ding a ling ling ling …

  He continued. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Now that you’re thin, naturally you can get men like Alex. I don’t blame you, really. You’ve gone on about him for ages. Excuse me a minute. I’m going to get another drink. Do you want anything?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  Rob stayed by the bar for the rest of the event. I didn’t try to talk to him. No way. I didn’t know what that was all about but if he wanted to believe I was that shallow, that I’d gone out with Alex because of his looks, then I didn’t have anything to say to him.

  We only made polite conversation when we had to speak. There was no reason for him to be so snappy. I was the one being unfairly judged. As I collected the surveys at the end, I resolved to work from home on Friday rather than cross paths with him.

  Much as I hated to admit it as I looked over the surveys, most of our clients loved speed-dating. Even Arthur enjoyed himself, and he wasn’t one to spare anyone’s feelings by lying.

  But the night hadn’t gone well for everyone. My heart sank when I read the comments that two of the women had included on their forms. From one: There was nobody here for me. Serves me right for thinking there would be. And from another: I feel worse than before I came. Speed-dating’s not for me. I thought about those women all the way back to the flat.

  The idea of having to bare all for a national audience became real the following week when Channel 4 called Jane to arrange our meeting with all the head stylists. They didn’t even give us enough notice for me to go to the gym every day to try to shore up some of the landslides my body had suffered from losing weight so quickly in the past few months.

  Once again I had to call Cressida to excuse myself from the morning’s work. But she didn’t seem the least bit put out about it. She told me vaguely to have fun and rushed off the phone. Needs Improvement judgements aside, she really was the best kind of boss to have.

  I dressed carefully for our TV meeting. Chocolate brown trousers with a lovely flowery sheer silk blouse from Topshop. I’d never get tired of saying that. Topshop Topshop Topshop. I was even wearing kitten heels, now that there was less of this cat to balance on pinpoints.

  Jane seemed uncharacteristically nervous when we met outside the Tube. She smiled distractedly when I kissed her hello.

  ‘All right?’ I asked.

  ‘Hmm? Oh, yes, yes. You look really lovely.’ She stared at me.

  ‘So do you!’ She was wearing a pastel green summer dress, floaty and romantic, with jewelled flip-flops. She looked more like herself than she had in a long time.

  Entering Rea’s office, I could see that the TV producer had continued to embrace her inner hoarder. The sample piles were slowly enveloping the office furniture. New additions were heaped on top of old, teetering toward the ceiling. Four other people were already there, trying not to set off any handbag avalanches.

  ‘Jane, Katie,’ Rea began. ‘I wanted you to meet the style directors who’ll be coordinating everyone for the show. Tim Sparks is the creative director for The Cutting Room and he’ll oversee your hair.’

  Tim grasped my hand, enthusiastically kissing both cheeks. ‘I can’t wait to get my hands into that hair!’ he exclaimed, his slender fifty-something frame quivering with excitement. Having not a strand of hair himself, he was free to unleash all his creativity on his clients. ‘So rich and thick and dark, fabulicious, you’re a dream!’ Then he turned to Jane and made the same claim, only substituting blonde for dark. I bet nothing in his life was less than fabulicious.

  ‘And this is Mary Weather, makeup artist extraordinaire.’ The tiny young woman with thick trendy glasses inspected my face as she shook my hand. I could feel my pores widening under her scrutiny. Her fine light hair was gathered into an artfully messy bun and she didn’t even look like she wore makeup. Do unto others what you wouldn’t slap on yourself.

  ‘And finally, our head stylists for the programme, Peony and Marigold.’ The identical twins stared at each other before grasping our hands to say hello in stereo. If they’d dressed alike I’d have doubted their credentials. But one wore faded jeans with a pale pink vest and strings of long silver necklaces hung with bits of shell and feather. The other looked dainty in a pale grey shirt dress and ankle boots. Something stopped them from being pretty. There was nothing wrong with their features – pale eyes and lashes, pert noses and full lips; as a compilation they just didn’t quite work.

  ‘Sit, please, Jane and Katie.’ Rea gestured to the only chairs in the room. ‘So we wanted to meet today to run through the schedule for taping, answer any questions and resolve any issues. Have you got questions for us?’

  Jane said, ‘It’s lovely to meet you all. Will you be the ones doing the styling, and cutting and makeup, or will it be someone else?’

  ‘I’ve got a team,’ said Tim. I’d bet it was a fabulicious one. ‘And since we’ve got … how many?’ He turned to Rea. ‘Is it fifteen other girls to do, it could be any of us who does your hair. It depends on who’s available when you’re ready. Why, my darling, do you want me?’ He flapped his hands like he’d been nominated for the Golden Scissors award.

  ‘Well, it’s just that I’d feel more comfortable knowing who it was so that I knew beforehand how you’d like to cut it. Since it’s more permanent than makeup or clothes. Not that it’s more important!’ she rushed to assure the others.

  ‘I understand, my pet. I’ll be there for you, don’t worry.’ He looked immensely pleased to be so wanted. />
  Jane smiled gratefully.

  ‘Katie, any questions?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘I have a question,’ asked one of the botany twins as she stared at me. ‘Where’s the rest of you?’

  The room was silent, except for the sound of the blood rushing to my face.

  The other twin picked up her sibling’s train of thought. ‘It’s just that the photos we had to work from showed you much bigger. We’ve put together an entire wardrobe, accessories, everything, based on those photos and your measurements. Now what are we supposed to do?’

  They might try using smaller sizes. For superstar stylists they didn’t seem to be very creative thinkers.

  Rea intervened. ‘I did mention that you shouldn’t make any drastic changes, and Peony—’

  ‘Marigold,’ said one.

  ‘Sorry, Marigold is right. Have you lost weight?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ I said. ‘We both have.’ Jane shot me a filthy look at being implicated in my transgression. ‘But the show isn’t about being fat. It’s about the transformation that lets us be comfortable with our bodies. Right?’

  Rea seemed to consider this. ‘Yes … yes, of course that’s the point. But we signed the contracts based on the bodies we thought we were working with. Now yours has changed. Please don’t get me wrong, you look wonderful. But you are different from the concept we first agreed on.’

  An uncomfortable silence surrounded us. There was nothing I could say to remedy the situation. Jane too, seemed at a loss. ‘So what happens now?’ she asked.

  ‘I think I’ll have to discuss it with the co-producers, and with Gok. We can talk again in a few days.’ Her face was kindly but her voice stern.

  ‘Sure, of course,’ I said, standing. I shook everyone’s hand, feeling very fabatrocious.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Jane said as soon as we left the building. ‘I know you, Katie. Do not blame yourself for this.’ She put her arm around my shoulder and pulled me close as we walked toward the Tube. The sky began to spit fat drops, further darkening my mood.

  I hadn’t reckoned on these consequences of my happy thyroid. ‘What if we lose the show, Jane? They could cancel it because I’m not what they want. Then there’ll be no publicity for the club, and we won’t grow, and you know we can’t afford to give Pixie any more hours as it is. How is she supposed to support herself? She’ll have to go back to Trevor.’ I felt sick thinking that we were so close and I was ruining it for everyone.

  ‘I hope we won’t lose the show,’ Jane said calmly. ‘It’s still a great idea, no matter what size you are. You were right in what you said to Rea. The programme is supposed to be about loving the body you’ve got. Not all of the women who’ve been on before were overweight. I’m sure that Rea and the team are discussing it right now and coming to the same conclusion. Even those twins will have to see reason. It’s not like they can’t find different sizes. They were a bit rude, weren’t they?’

  I laughed. ‘It’s not their fault. They’re named after potted plants. Of course they’re angry with the world.’

  We hugged good-bye at the Tube, agreeing not to say anything to the others. There was no reason to worry them when everything might turn out fine. Besides, I was quite capable of worrying enough for everyone. I couldn’t stop the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It felt like a lot of people’s futures were sitting heavily in there.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  That night I stepped on the scale in my beautiful bathroom and realised I’d reached my ideal weight for the first time in my adult life. My tummy might have more folds than an origami chicken but I fit into the dresses I liked. I should have felt excitement, elation, pride. But it seemed that stupid quip I’d made all those months ago was true. Being happy with yourself really wasn’t simply a matter of pounds and ounces. So as I stood there, I tried to take stock of the things I liked about myself. To my surprise the list kept growing. When I finished my personal inventory my thoughts turned to my life, from big things like my friends and family to the little joys: opening the weekend papers and the takeaway sushi nights Ellie and I liked to indulge in. I thought about how I’d convinced Cressida to let me visit clients and won over Jennie. When I peered at the bathroom’s wood floor, which I’d stripped and waxed myself one weekend, I remembered all the other ways I’d made my flat a home. Then I thought about the Curvy Girls Club and my heart swelled. I hadn’t even known there was a hole to fill when we first thought of it. It ended up filling a chasm.

  And finally I knew for a fact that there was a lot more to Katie Winterbottom than her dress size.

  I was buoyant when I met my friends that night. Then talk turned to the Channel 4 meeting.

  I was still sure that it was right to keep quiet about Rea’s concerns, so gingerly I stepped from the frying pan to the edge of the hob, trying not to burn my toes. I described fabulicious Tim and the flower twins and the makeup artist who didn’t practise what she preached.

  ‘So it’s all set then?’ Ellie asked. She was counting the days till she got to meet Gok. It was to be the pinnacle of her celeb-stalking career so far. Just imagine what half-eaten morsel she’d snatch off his plate to hang on her bedroom wall.

  I nodded, unwilling to actually voice a lie.

  I could tell by the way Pixie narrowed her eyes that she didn’t believe me. ‘No problems at all?’ she asked. ‘They’re happy with you and Jane doing the show?’

  I couldn’t look at Jane. I’d cave in if I did.

  ‘Why wouldn’t they be happy with us?’ If the worst came to the worst, I’d have to claim the producers changed their minds at the very last minute.

  ‘Well, you’re supposed to be a role model for the Curvy Girls Club, right?’ She laughed. ‘And frankly, love, you haven’t got enough rolls.’

  I bit my tongue. She wasn’t really upset about my weight … or not completely because of it anyway. She’d come to dinner straight from another counselling session with Trevor. It had taken him just a few weeks to go from contrite husband to arrogant prick. He probably realised she wasn’t coming back, and wanted to punish her for everything that was wrong in his life. Luckily she only had to listen to him for an hour a week in the company of a neutral stranger. And even though she was happy with the children in their new flat, a tiny part of her must have wanted the Trevor she fell in love with to re-emerge from the counselling. After all, as she’d said, he was the father of her children.

  So I kept quiet and hoped Rea would see sense.

  Smith saw the first line of Alex’s email just as I did the next afternoon at work, thanks to Outlook’s alerts having absolutely no respect for privacy. It hung there in the corner of my screen for an eternity before fading away. Hi Katie, I’ve been thinking about you. Want to get … We sat at my desk in silence, watching the message fade.

  ‘You know you can turn those off,’ he finally said. ‘In Settings. You just turn off the alerts.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll do that …’ My upper lip began to sweat. I wanted to push Smith off the chair so I could read the rest of the message. Of all the people to see that email, of course it had to be him, the conniving little fart. ‘So, what was I saying?’ I asked.

  ‘Hmm, I’m not sure. Maybe you were going to tell me why our finance director is thinking about you?’

  ‘No, I’m sure that wasn’t it,’ I said, squirming. One comment to Racy Stacy in HR and he could get me fired. Smith suddenly went from annoying to dangerous. ‘I think we were going over the client capture system and I was telling you how to enter the notes.’

  ‘Really? I think it was the other thing.’

  ‘Listen, Smith. I’m not having this conversation. My personal life is absolutely none of your business. End of discussion.’ I crossed my arms.

  ‘Interesting approach, Katie. I’d probably have made up something about Alex thinking about me in relation to my money-saving idea on the stationery or something. Listen, I’ll let you answer your email. Mustn’t keep
our bosses waiting, right? Thanks for the briefing.’

  He swaggered off, probably to bed Stacy and whisper sweet actionable offences in her ear. Of course I hadn’t intimidated him.

  As soon as the coast was clear I clicked on Alex’s email.

  Hi Katie, I’ve been thinking about you. Want to get together tonight? Sorry for the late notice but I’d love to see you if you’re free. Let me know. Alex x

  Any night but tonight! I was scheduled to work with Jane. Actually, it was disingenuous to call it work since we were taking everyone to see The Book of Mormon. People were auctioning off their infants for those seats. We’d booked tickets months ago. That was a lot of anticipation to give up for a date.

  But this was Alex. All the excitement I’d managed to tuck away came tumbling back out when I let myself think about our night together.

  This was also Alex, the man who’d literally turned his back on me (I hadn’t forgotten that little humiliation). So which Alex was asking me out?

  I sat back in my chair to take in the sudden turn of events. What with all the ignoring, you’d think he’d gone off me. Yet maybe that little bit of green that I found stuck between my teeth on our date hadn’t been a deal-breaker. Perhaps he hadn’t rethought his decision to ask me out when I accidentally snort-laughed on the Tube ride back to his place. And I wasn’t so crap in bed that he’d been obliged to pretend the whole night never happened.

  I could always ask Ellie to take my place at the theatre. She’d been properly put out when I told her we’d got the tickets. And it wasn’t like Jane couldn’t handle the event on her own anyway. It had been a bit selfish of me to book two tickets in the first place, considering how expensive they were.

  As I stared at his email until the words blurred, I felt there must be a sensible strategy. Make him wait or tell him I wasn’t free or something empowering like that. Someone savvier than me would have played it. My hands found the keys before I could think about it too much.

  Hey Alex, I’d love to see you tonight. What did you have in mind? K x