Chapter 10
I
know I said that I wasn’t going to buy any new clothes until I got to my target weight but I can’t carry on wearing my old clothes, I look ridiculous. The sight of myself in Bella’s hallway mirror has compelled me to face facts: I need to buy some clothes that fit. I hate trying on clothes which is another reason why I’ve been putting it off. There’s nothing worse than trying stuff on and realising that you’ve gone up another dress size and everything looks awful anyway. Mostly I’d buy the biggest size I could find in Foodco and just hope I’d fit into it. I know that I’m nearly at my goal and normal size clothes will fit me but I just couldn’t imagine buying clothes and enjoying it.
So I trotted into Next and I thought; I’ll just buy enough to keep me going until I lose that last stone. I took two pairs of the cheapest jeans I could find and four plain t-shirts from their basic range into the changing room.
I wasn’t sure what size to take so I took them all in a size fourteen, which was being a bit optimistic, and a sixteen as well, which was much more realistic. The assistant at the entrance to the changing rooms said I wasn’t allowed to take that many in so I gave her all of the fourteens to hold while I tried on the sixteens.
I’d only just pulled the first pair of jeans over my
legs and up to my waist when the assistant asked me through the curtain if she could help. I thought for Christ’s sake give me a chance, but do you know what? I didn’t even need to do them up to know that those jeans swamped me, they were huge.
I couldn’t believe it, talk about thrilled. So I got the assistant to pass me all of the size fourteens and I gave all the sixteens to her.
So there I was in that tiny little dressing room with the assistant standing on the other side of the curtain and I thought; I know that I’ll struggle to get them on but as long as I can do them up I’ll buy them, it’ll spur me on if they’re too tight, motivate me to lose that last stone a bit quicker. Maybe cut out breakfast altogether. So I stepped into them and pulled them up and there was no resistance at all. Zipped them up and did the button up and I could fit both my hands down the front they were so big. Must be a mistake, I thought, she must have given me a size sixteen back.
‘Everything okay, Madam, would you like me to get you another size?’
I popped my head out between the curtains.
‘Are these the sixteens you’ve given me?’
‘No, madam, they’re the fourteens but I think you probably need a twelve.’
Well, my mouth dropped open in shock and I just gawped at her. Me, a twelve, I thought I must be dreaming.
‘I’ll pop and get them for you.’ And she silently glided off in the way that dressing room attendants do.
I sat down on that little bench in that tiny dressing room and waited and tried to figure it out. I knew I’d
lost a lot, my bras are so big I’ve been doing them up with a safety pin and they’re so baggy that I might as well have not bothered wearing them. And the only thing holding my knickers up were my two-ninety-nine leggings from Foodco which also have to be safety pinned to keep them up, but a twelve? Never.
The assistant seemed to be gone an awful long time and I was just thinking of getting dressed and going to look for her when I heard her voice through the curtain.
‘Hope you don’t mind,’ she said, poking her head through the curtains, ‘there weren’t any left in the styles you chose so I selected a few different options for you.’ She thrust two handfuls of hangers through the curtains so obviously the rule about taking too many in doesn’t apply if you work there.
I smiled and took them off her and swished the curtain closed. The jeans felt a much nicer quality than the value ones I’d chosen, thicker material and a nicer blue too. A nice style, younger, more fashionable. I looked at the price tags to see that they were also much more expensive. Hmm, I thought, wonder if that was deliberate. I could always make do with just one pair of jeans and two t-shirts. I didn’t want to spend too much because I’ll need to buy all new at the end but I can’t very well walk around in clothes five sizes too big, can I?
I pulled on the first pair, skinny, light blue, belly button skimming. I got them over my legs easily and over my backside but I couldn’t get them done up, not even if I laid on the floor. I swallowed down the bitter disappointment. See, I knew I was fatter than a twelve and she’d gone and got my hopes up and, for a
moment, I hated her.
I ripped them off bad temperedly and shook them out to put them back on the hanger. The size ten hanger. I gawped at it in disbelief; I’d actually got a pair of size ten jeans on
and very nearly got them done up.
That was it; after that I couldn’t contain myself and I came out of Next with two massive carrier bags and I’d spent over four-hundred pounds. It felt fabulous, for the first time since I was a teenager I actually enjoyed buying clothes and I just couldn’t stop myself. I tried on so many jeans and tops and jumpers and they all fitted; some were size tens and some twelves and I felt so good that I couldn’t choose between them. I couldn’t decide which ones I wanted so I had them all. Then she started bringing shoes in to try with them, to see how they hang
, and I put a pair of heels on and I felt so good. I wouldn’t have believed that a pair of shoes could make such a difference and I vowed there and then; no more shuffling around in cheap Foodco ballet flats.
Next, she started bringing dresses to try on too, with pretty leggings and tights that she matched up with them. It was obviously a slow sales day and I think I became her project but I didn’t mind at all, I probably wouldn’t have had the confidence to do it on my own. She certainly knew how to put stuff together, she teamed colours and styles together that I’d never have thought of. I bought new underwear as well; underwear that actually fits and it made such a difference. My boobs looked bigger and perkier and my waist looked tiny and I’ve still got a stone to go. Two pretty bras with matching knickers, similar to
Bella’s although nowhere near as expensive. I’ll need more of course but they’ll do to start with. I bought two pairs of shoes and a lovely pair of ankle boots. I felt quite sad when I’d finished trying everything and it was time to leave; I can’t remember when I’ve had such a lovely time. The assistant whisked everything away to the till and I got dressed in my old clothes and I felt such an ugly, fat frump again. And then when I put my old size twenty-two beige anorak on over the top I thought, no, I’m never wearing that again, so I came out of the changing room and went over to the coat section and tried on a pea green three-quarter length, fitted coat in a lovely wool mixture. The assistant came over and said how lovely it looked and I know she was trying to get me to buy it but I could see myself that it did look fab, so I got her to add it to the pile on the desk at the till.
When I’d paid for it all I asked her not to put the coat in a bag as I was going to wear it and she cut the label off for me. When I finally came out of Next I crossed over the road to the car park, took that horrible beige anorak out of the Next bag and stuffed it into the bin outside Foodco.
I blew my budget massively. And although I’ve managed to save a bit from my wages it wasn’t a huge amount so I didn’t have enough money to buy all of those clothes. So, I used Mother’s bank card. She won’t know and when her bank statement comes I’ll just rip it up and put it in the bin, but even if she finds out, so what? She can’t actually do anything about it, can she? And it felt so good spending money on myself, I thought, I could get used to this and I think I might do it more often
.
And as it turned out I did it a lot sooner than I expected. I reached my car and opened the boot and deposited my bulging shopping bags inside and as I closed the boot my eyes fell on the back entrance to Helicon Sports and the thought of my scruffy running gear popped into my head. I could have some nice colourful sportswear like Bella; not Foodco’s basic trainers and baggy arsed joggers. I looked at my watch; quarter-to-four, plenty of time to kit myself out with some upmarket sportswear.
Armed with Mother’s bank card I marched across the car park towards the shop and I thought; this is going to be fun. I’m in a good mood so I’m cooking Mother’s favourite tea; pork chops and mash with cabbage and peas. Strangely enough now the pressure’s off and Mother daren’t complain about my cooking it’s improved; she was so critical before we had our little talk but now she never moans about what I give her. I don’t bother shutting the door when I use the microwave either; so what if she hears the ding, what can she do? She has been very quiet lately and I know that she’s plotting; desperately trying to think of a way to get things back the way they were before; when she
had the power.
But really, she can’t; she doesn’t see anyone apart from me and I’ve started to drop hints here and there that she might be going a bit, you know, senile
, not right in the head. Nothing too obvious, a snippet to Veronica here, confiding to Doris that I’m worried about Mother
, that sort of thing. I’ve, accidently on purpose, bumped into Dolph at Foodco a couple of times and pasted a concerned and worried expression on my face and told him how Mother is not herself but, of
course, I’d never let her go into a home.
Dolph thought I looked different; he cocked his head to one side and pursed his lips making no effort to hide the fact he was studying me. He offered me a free haircut like he always does, and Mother too; I said I’d let him know but I won’t take him up on it; don’t want to get too friendly with the neighbours although they’re useful for putting the story around that Mother’s going doolally.
Honestly, I surprise myself sometimes with how devious I can be; as well as a liar. Maybe I take after my father. No, actually, thinking about it, I definitely take after Mother; I’ve learnt from the best.
I’m going straight out for a run after I’ve taken her dinner up to her, I don’t need to wait until dark anymore and I’ll have my salad when I come back. I bought four running outfits from Helicon, two new pairs of trainers and two sports bras. I spent more than I spent in Next. Tonight’s outfit features glossy black leggings with yellow and black shorts over them, yellow sleeveless vest over a climate controlled long sleeved, black top and yellow and black trainers to complete the look. Although it won’t make any different to my running, I feel so
good. I think I could even turn heads for all of the right
reasons.
My shopping bags are still sitting in the middle of my bedroom where I dumped them and I’ll unpack them later. I’ve decided I’m going to throw every single item of my old clothes into the bin. I’d like to ceremoniously burn them all but I have to be practical. I could
give them to the charity shop but, honestly, no one should have to wear clothes like that no matter how poor they are
.
While I was putting on my new running gear and admiring the little I could see of myself in the age spotted mirror above my dressing table it struck me - how shabby and old fashioned is my bedroom? Furniture that belonged to my grandparents; we’re not talking antiques here, more seventies teak effect tat. It’ll all have to go; the new me can’t be living in the past and sleeping in a bed that still has orange nylon sheets with a nylon duvet cover and a shag pile bedside rug for God’s sake.
No. It will all have to go.
I mash the potatoes and dish them up onto the plate alongside the chops, all the while marvelling at how lovely and slim my arms look in my new glossy black top. And toned; the weights have definitely paid off. Isn’t there a saying, clothes maketh a man
, or something like that? Well, clothes definitely maketh this
woman, that’s for sure.
I put the pan in the sink and run hot water into it in preparation for the washing up when I come back from my run.
Maybe I’ll get a dishwasher.
Most people have dishwashers these days, don’t they?
I arrange Mother’s plate on her tray with her knife and fork, salt and pepper and take it upstairs. She’s sitting up in bed waiting and I pull the legs out from underneath the tray and place it over her lap.
‘’Your favourite, Mother, pork chops.’
She doesn’t look at the chops but stares at me, mouth open, a shocked look on her face.
‘Why, Mother, whatever’s the matter?’
She looks me up and down and shakes her head
.
‘What have you done with yourself? You look different?’
‘I’ve lost weight Mother, got fit.’ She continues staring at me and I straighten up and move back a bit so she can get a good look. How can she not have noticed that in the last four months I’ve dropped at least five dress sizes? Incredible isn’t it? But that’s Mother for you; she never really looks at me, she only criticises and belittles.
‘How? How can you have done that without me knowing?’ she stutters over the words, her mouth resembling a trout gasping for air.
I smile. What is there to say?
‘Where did you get those ridiculous clothes from? You’re surely not going out in them.’
‘I got them from Helicon Sports. Lush, aren’t they? Cost me a hundred-and-fifty pound, not including the trainers, but well worth it, don’t you think?’
She harrumphs, recovering quickly from the shock and getting back to her normal self. ‘Where did you get that sort of money from? If you can afford to waste money on that you can pay me a bit more rent.’ Really, I couldn’t have planned that better if I’d tried, I’ve been meaning to have the conversation about money with her but not got around to it and now she’s presented me with the perfect opportunity.
‘I’m glad you’ve brought that up Mother, because we need to have a little talk about that.’
She looks at me suspiciously and I’m glad I’m going out for a run as soon as I get downstairs because she’s definitely going to have one of her episodes,
and really, I can’t be doing with it
.
‘The thing is, Mother, I’m not going to be paying you rent anymore.’
She starts spluttering then, as I knew she would, but I remain calm.
‘No more rent,’ I go on, over her spluttering, ‘As I do quite enough for you without paying you rent as well. In fact, I was even thinking that maybe you should pay me
, for all that I do for you.’
Her face goes so red and her mouth opens and closes, that trout thing again and for a moment I feel quite alarmed and wonder if she’s having another stroke.
And then that nasty little voice; you know, the one I learned from her, pipes up. Well, would that really be so bad? Wouldn’t that solve a lot of problems?
Anyway, she’s not having a stroke, it’s rage that’s causing the scarlet face; pure rage.
‘HOW DARE YOU!’ she bellows, very loudly actually, for an old woman. ‘After all I’ve done for you.’ She picks the dinner plate up in both hands and then places one hand underneath it palm-up, and I know she’s going to throw it at me so I put my hand up to stop her.
‘If you’re thinking of throwing it, Mother, be aware that I won’t be cleaning it up, or making you anything else to eat.’ I speak in calm, quiet voice.
She glares at me, her mouth agog, her eyes blinking disbelief.
‘Just remember, Mother,’ I continue, ‘that if you throw it, wherever it lands it’ll stay and we’re coming on for summer now, so it’ll attract the bluebottles, won’t it?’
She holds the plate for a few minutes in mid-air
and then decides that she believes me and slowly lowers it back down onto the tray. This used to be a favourite of hers when she had one of her episodes, before we had our little talk. I’ve cleaned many a dinner off of the wall and carpet and it’s not easy to get mashed potato out of a carpet, nor tomato soup either.
‘I’m going out now Mother, for a run. ‘I’ll be back in time to bring you your cocoa up.’
She doesn’t speak but continues to stare at me as I come out of her room.
I think, all in all, that went rather well.