 |
| Clever Girl... >> Writing >> Mr Perfect >> But no one... This is about 6 chapters into the book. But no one makes fun of you for being... In retrospect, I guess I spent a lot of time with Mel that summer. It seems strange, knowing as I do now that we wouldn't be very good friends in even a year's time. But while I wouldn't say that we were quite inseparable that summer, I guess you could say Mel and Todd's bike was temporarily a tricycle. But Mel couldn't take Todd everywhere. Some places were off limits, and those were the places she took me. One of which was her father's house in rural Victoria. Mel and Todd had been dating for almost 6 months by this point, but their relationship wasn't yet of a sexual nature and, even if it had been, Mel was only 15 years old. Todd wasn't allowed to go on holiday with Mel. So she took me. We somehow managed to keep ourselves entertained for 7 days with only each other's company to rely on. We read Dolly, listened to the soundtrack to the 80s TV show Mel's cousin had appeared in, laughed at Hanson and Kylie Minogue... Mel's father, a slightly alternative intellectual, was amused by our constant disparagement of Hanson and suggested that perhaps we actually secretly liked the band. He told us he'd listened to the CD and thought they were really good songwriters, a modern day Jackson Five. He particularly liked Weird. I told him I had bought the CD for my sister but I really wasn't impressed at all. I thought Weird was boring. He said Mel and I could learn a few thing from Hanson, that we should put to use in our band. I'd brought my guitar with me, and Mel and I would sit in the room we were staying in for hours, our weak voices harmonising to the five folk-pop songs I'd written at that point. We went to the local swimming pool, around a 10 minute walk from Mel's father's house, where we re-enacted scenes from Melrose Place (the ones in which people were pushed into the pool) and bombed the pool. We left two boys, aged about six or so, in awe of us as we told them we could touch the bottom when we bombed the deep end. Because we weighed more than them. Not that Mel weighed much at all... 40 kilos or so? One afternoon we were standing at the pool exit, dripping wet, towels wrapped firmly around our waists to camouflage our hips, reading the tall wooden sign that outlined the rules the pool's patrons were to follow. We giggled upon realising we'd broken every one of them. Well, every one except not peeing in the pool. No bombing. No jumping. No pushing others into the pool. No running in the pool area. Patrons must shower before swimming. Shower? Why? Did they think we were all dirty or something? Mel shot me a wicked smile and giggled. "They don't mean us, Victoria! That rule's just for country people! The ones who don't shower for three days!" That night we were lying beside each other on the twin matresses Mel's father had set out for us on the floor. Mel was complaining about the way our friends always made fun of her for being so thin. "You always say 'Oh, Mel wouldn't understand' when you talk about weight and stuff - like I have no feelings!" "I don't know... I guess you should take it as a compliment. When people joke about how thin you are it's because they're jealous. They'd like to be thin too." I could feel her dissatisfaction with my response. She sighed. "But it's not fair! No one ever makes fun of you for being fat!" There was a marked silence as I reeled from Mel's verbal slap. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to cry, I wanted to go home immediately, but I couldn't. It was my second day there. I had to spend 5 more days there. I mean, I was insecure as it was - both Mel and I checked our reflections in every reflective surface we passed - mirrors, shop windows, cars... but this... just brought everything to the surface. I mean, I knew logically that I wasn't fat. I was five foot six, a size 10... I couldn't be fat, but... "Victoria? What's wrong?" I mumbled something incoherent. "Oh my god! I didn't mean it like that!" I sighed. "I don't know... you said it. It must have gone through your head. You must have meant it." I think she knew I'd caught her. There was no way she could really get out of this. "But - but - I didn't..." she protested helplessly. She did. "I just feel so... ugly..." I said sadly. "But Victoria..." she groaned. "You can be pretty. I mean, last night you looked kinda nice..." Mel had a way with her. Even two years later, in my year 12 yearbook, I was quoted saying "I really need to find someone who'll get my self-esteem down - has anyone seen Mel?: And no matter how much reassurance I get, comments like the one she made that night still infiltrate into my consciousness. I mean, three years later I still remember that night word for word. And I'm on the verge of deleting this chapter just so you don't all think I must be hideously fat and ugly. But I guess if you're reading this... back |
|
|
|
|
|