Thursday, 25 February 2010


So here is the introduction. There is whispering, it is faint. Quieter than the long years of voices who chorus in a cringe, 'big girl, fat thighs, you don't deserve nice things, slut, drunkard, great big belly, lose weight, be thinner like them then maybe someone will really like you.'

But they don't. I hid behind the fat-jolly-don't-care face I have fashioned from hurt and just pretend. Pretend I don't mind, that I haven't noticed how monstrous I am, that I haven't noticed all of them noticing how fat I am. Years in a T-shirt on a beach, being the best swimmer so I could hide my bulk under water. So I could stay in the pool instead of lumbering around the thin girls.

Enough. My turn in the sun. I want to be skinny, make them all jealous. All those girls who skipped about, sniggering, choosing me to highlight their slight frames, their elegant limbs.

They are older. We are older. They are married, their bodies gone slightly to seed - they no longer push to be the alpha skinny one; they have mated.

Well I will have the last laugh.

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