What I Like About Me

by Jenna Guillaume

  So I rolled my eyes, pushed Beamer out of the booth, and proceeded to kick his butt at air hockey.

  But I left the bowling alley with that strip of photos burning a hole in my back pocket.

  *

  When we got home, I jumped in the shower. After I dried myself, I wiped the steam off the long mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door.

  I was thinking about Beamer and those three whispered words, ‘You’re so beautiful.’ He probably didn’t mean it. Did he?

  As I considered my reflection, trying to see some kind of beauty, and failing as I always do, something Eva had screamed at Mum when they were at their battle stations earlier floated back to me. Mum had been yelling ‘Why?’ a lot, and it was like something in Eva snapped, and she burst out with, ‘I got tired of looking in the mirror all the time and hating what I saw.’

  Tired. That’s exactly how I felt. Tired – and sad. Because if someone like Eva feels like that – well, what hope do I have?

  Then I thought of Bess. About how she had said you only have one body, so you might as well enjoy it. She was talking about eating cake. But also, I think, about so much more. I’ve noticed something in the past few days. She’s really comfortable in her own skin. Confident, even. It’s amazing.

  I can’t remember the last time I felt that way. Comfortable inside my skin. Can you imagine that, DJ? Humour me for a second, and pretend you’re not an inanimate object but a real human being with real human feelings.

  Imagine having a body that you’re always uncomfortable in. Always. That moves when you want it to be still, and makes you want to be still even when you long to move. That doesn’t look how you want it to look or feel how you want it to feel.

  Imagine seeing those things in your own reflection.

  Imagine having a body that people stare at wherever you go. Pass silent judgement on. Pierce your skin and get at your soul with their wide eyes. With their raised eyebrows. With their twisted mouths.

  Imagine seeing that look on the face of your own mother.

  Imagine having a body that people feel they can comment on. Pass loud judgement on. Pierce your skin and get at your soul with their cruel words. Their taunts. Even their concern, which is really just another way of saying you’re not good enough.

  Imagine hearing those words from your own sister.

  Imagine having a body that is never seen in the movies you love, or the TV shows you watch, except when it’s being mocked. Treated as a horror, a freak show, something to be laughed at.

  Imagine hearing that laughter from your own father.

  Imagine having a body that is to be feared. That turns you into a living cautionary tale, the ‘before’ that people want to get away from, the ‘after’ they desperately want to avoid. That’s described in words thin people use to put themselves down, to say they feel awful – they can’t go out, they’re having a ‘fat’ day, as though it’s a viral infection they need to ride out.

  Imagine hearing those words from your best friend.

  Can you feel it yet, DJ? Can you feel how unrelentingly exhausting it is? Can you feel the little holes opening up in your soul, an emptiness inside of you that can’t be filled?

  I saw this quote on Instagram one time, this thing about how nobody can really love you until you love yourself.

  But how can you love yourself when even the people who are supposed to love you no matter what can’t accept who you are?

  I’m tired of it. I’m so fucking tired of it.

  So I stood there tonight, in front of the mirror. And I cried. And I wiped my tears away, and I looked at myself. Truly looked at myself for the first time in a long time. And I counted the things I like about my body. It went like this:

  1. My eyes.

  2. My eyebrows.

  3. My ears.

  4. My hair.

  5. My fingernails.

  6. My boobs.

  7. My forearms.

  That’s it. Seven things. Just seven things.

  But you know what, DJ? It’s better than nothing.

  And you know what else? Next time, maybe it’ll be eight.

  You’ve got to start somewhere, right? And here’s the thing: I might not love my body right now. But I’m sure as hell done with feeling ashamed of it.

  Friday, 29 December

  4 things I discovered today

  1. My dress for the pageant is NEARLY ready.

  Source: Leila. Unfortunately I don’t have primary evidence because she won’t let me see it until it’s DONE. Which she promises will be very soon.

  2. Being interviewed is harder than it looks.

  Source: A journalist from the lifestyle section of the local news site interviewed me today for a piece she’s running about the pageant on Sunday. Chirpy Janice, who was the one who informed me I was IN, rang me this morning to set it up. I said yes without really thinking, and then promptly started shitting myself. (Like I actually had to run to the toilet a few times. Sorry if that’s too much information, DJ.)

  3. Dad is officially a more useless parent than my mother.

  Source: When I texted him, you know, the EXPERT at interviews, for advice, all he wrote back was: You’ll do great, Eminem! How’s your mother? At least he wrote back, I guess.

  4. I think we might have accidentally entered into a parallel dimension without realising it. Maybe it was those dodgy burritos we had the other night.

  Source: See point 3, and also the fact that Mum is really pissed with Eva . . . and really happy with me???

  *

  Mum was in a foul mood this morning. The climate in the cabin was so frosty, it was like Elsa had come to stay. Mum had barely thawed when she came back from her pamper session with Laura at the spa. (‘I’ll sort her out,’ Laura had whispered to me as she whisked Mum out the door. She gave me a helpless shrug behind Mum’s back when they returned.)

  But you know what snapped her out of it? ME (?!??!??!!).

  ‘What’s going on?’ Mum said when she saw Anna and me surrounded by piles of my clothes and an air of despair. I was supposed to be meeting Sarah, the journalist who wanted to interview me, in fifteen minutes, and I had no idea what to wear. When I told Mum what was happening, she shrieked. Like, ear-bursting excitement.

  ‘Oh my gosh, Missy-May! You must be a favourite if they’re nominating you for press.’ She looked me up and down. ‘Oh. You’re not wearing that, are you?’

  After a flurry of ‘helpful’ suggestions from Mum, encouragement from Laura and meaningful looks from Anna, I was finally out the door in jeans and a flowing blue top. Mum tried to come with me, but I grabbed Anna’s hand and shot out of there before she could even ask where we were going.

  We met Sarah on the path near the main beach. She was stunning, with tanned skin, perfect eyebrows and a smile that was whiter and straighter than all the leading men in Hollywood. She had a camera guy with her and held a microphone with the news site’s logo on it up to my face. I felt Very Important.

  Sarah asked me questions about myself and how much pageant experience I’d had, and I heard Mum’s voice in my head telling me: Speak naturally but not too fast, and smile, but not too much. Be bright, Missy, let her see your shine! So I smiled and said perkily, ‘This will be my first pageant, but it runs in the family.’

  Her ears pricked up at that (metaphorically – her literal ears were hidden under her voluminous dark hair, but they might have pricked up, who knows). Soon I was answering questions about Eva, and I dug deep to muster way more enthusiasm than I felt.

  I was all, ‘Yes! Eva’s been helping me prepare and giving me great advice! Oh, you know, the usual: smile big, wave like the queen, strut like Beyoncé. Hahaha – yeah she’s just great. Oh no, Mum isn’t a stage mum at all. She is supportive of whatever we want to do!’

  Gag me with a spoon.

  ‘How did you feel when you found out you were in the competition?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘I was surprised, to be honest.’

  �
�Why were you surprised?’

  Gulp. ‘Well, when I entered, I never thought I’d actually get through.’ Smile!

  ‘And why was that?’

  Deep breath, don’t look down, look up! Smile! ‘It’s just such an honour to be here.’ Oscar nominees, eat your heart out.

  ‘But why did you enter if you didn’t think you’d get in?’

  ‘Well, you never know if you don’t try I guess, ha ha!’

  ‘Was there anything in particular you were concerned about?’

  Smile. Smile. Smile.

  ‘Was your body shape something you were worried about?’

  Am I still smiling? I don’t think I’m still smiling. I don’t know what my mouth is doing. Unclench those teeth. Smile! Gulp.

  ‘Um, a little, yeah, I guess.’ Not smiling.

  ‘So how did it feel when you got in?’

  ‘Um . . . surprising, like I said.’

  ‘But how did you feel?’

  Deep breath. Perk up. ‘Great! Just great! So excited! It’s going to be great!’ Grin, grin, grin.

  Sarah finally changed the subject to how I was preparing for the pageant and wrapped up not long after. Then the camera guy got me to walk along the beach and stare out at the ocean. I felt Very Silly.

  After they’d left and Anna and I were walking up the beach, she told me I’d done really well.

  ‘I dunno, that felt . . . weird?’

  ‘She was a little pushy, wasn’t she? But you were awesome. How exciting, Maise, I’m so proud of you!’ She put her arm around me as we walked and I actually began to let myself feel excited.

  *

  Tonight was movie night at Jo’s, and it was a lot of fun. We ate way too much and laughed even more. By the time I got home, my cheeks were sore from smiling. Genuine smiles this time, not the forced grimaces from earlier in the day. And when I looked in the mirror, I added to the list of things I like:

  1. My eyes.

  2. My eyebrows.

  3. My ears.

  4. My hair.

  5. My fingernails.

  6. My boobs.

  7. My forearms.

  8. My smile.

  Saturday, 30 December

  3 things I discovered today

  1. Apparently there are sporting events I will voluntarily attend.

  Source: I went – willingly – with Leila and co. to watch Kieron play cricket. CRICKET. But you know what? It was fun. Can’t say I saw too much of the game, though.

  2. My talent routine is a crowd pleaser.

  Source: I tested it out today at the match. Well, I had to do something to keep us entertained while a bunch of guys dressed all in white stood around doing nothing except occasionally chasing after a tiny red ball, didn’t I?

  3. Beamer has talents of his own.

  Source: ;););)

  *

  Today was a pretty good day. I had a lot of fun at the cricket (I know!) with Leila and her friends. Mum is still being super nice to me. Eva hasn’t been around. The only dark spot in the picture is that Anna seems unhappy again. Maybe it was because we were at the cricket, which she hates more than I do. I don’t know. I didn’t really get a chance to ask her about it, either. We didn’t have any time alone all day and she came to bed before I did. When I whispered her name in the dark, she didn’t respond. Which means she was either asleep or pretending to be. I’ll try to talk to her tomorrow.

  Beamer and I watched our final movie starring The Rock tonight. Well, most of it, at least (ahem). That’s the great movie challenge done. We haven’t revealed our scores yet, because we have to tally them. We’re going to do the big reveal tomorrow night, at the carnival.

  I’ve realised we probably should have got an impartial judge to score these movies, because there’s no way Beamer’s not going to cheat. And I’m determined not to let him win. But I gotta be honest, I’ve enjoyed the whole thing way more than I thought I would.

  Of course, The Rock is still no Arnold Schwarzenegger.

  Oh, I’ve added one more thing to my list:

  1. My eyes.

  2. My eyebrows.

  3. My ears.

  4. My hair.

  5. My fingernails.

  6. My boobs.

  7. My forearms.

  8. My smile.

  9. That bit of neck just below my ear, next to my jaw.

  That’s it. Nothing to see here. Move along, DJ.

  Sunday, 31 December

  1 thing I discovered today

  1. Everything sucks. Including me. Most of all, me.

  Source: I just can’t right now, DJ. I can’t.

  Monday, 1 January

  1 thing I discovered today

  1. Home is a mess, but at least it’s just a literal mess, and not a metaphorical one like the one I left back in the Bay, which is much harder to clean up than some grimy dishes.

  Source: I’m back home. With Dad. Are you surprised, DJ? He certainly was when I rocked up in the middle of the night. It looks like he hasn’t cleaned since we left. Mum will NOT be impressed. Add that to the list.

  *

  Hey, DJ. Happy New Year! Here’s hoping it’s better than the last. Well, the last few weeks, anyway.

  The thing is . . . I was actually having a good time for a little while there. Feeling positive about life. About myself. I was looking forward to that absurd pageant. Having fun with friends. Having fun with Beamer. My mum liked me for a change. Things weren’t perfect, but they were good.

  I was kidding myself.

  I know what you’re thinking. ‘What the hell happened?!’, right? Well, lucky for you, I want to tell you. I need to get it out of my head. Out of my heart. Just out of me.

  You might remember that yesterday was the day my interview about the pageant was supposed to go live. It feels so long ago already (it was last year, har har!).

  It was raining, so a group of us were back at Jo’s, making our way through the Mad Max series. Everyone else had only seen the latest one, and I told them it was as un-Australian as tomato sauce in the cupboard not to have seen the rest (Will was not convinced by my analogy, but he not-so-secretly wanted to watch the movies, so he let it slide). It was a good distraction from the nerves that were twisting my gut as I refreshed the news page on my phone every five minutes, waiting for my interview to go up. Leila eventually grabbed my phone from me and told me to chill, but then she just started the refresh routine herself.

  We were halfway through Road Warrior when she squealed and said, ‘It’s up!’

  You know, on top of everything else, it really pisses me off that Road Warrior is tainted for me forever now. It’s my second favourite Mad Max after Fury Road, and I’ll never be able to watch it in the same way again. Ugh.

  But back to yesterday.

  My heart was doing a mad dance in my chest as Leila Chrome-cast the interview to Jo’s TV so we could all watch it on the big screen. And there was my grinning face in the thumbnail, larger than life. The title read: LOCAL PAGEANT LETS IN PLUS SIZE TEEN TO SHUT DOWN CRITICS.

  My heart stopped dancing and started dropping towards my stomach region.

  Leila pressed play.

  On the screen, I began walking up the beach, looking out to the ocean thoughtfully, like I was a contestant on The Bachelor, while Sarah, the journalist who’d interviewed me, spoke in voiceover: ‘Meet Maisie Martin, the sixteen-year-old girl breaking beauty standards to become the first ever plus-size contestant to participate in the Miss Teen Summer Queen pageant.’

  I felt cold all over.

  ‘I never thought I’d actually get through,’ the me on screen was saying, a desperate smile on her/my face.

  Cut to Janice, the chirpy pageant lady, dressed in a shoulder-padded suit that was probably the hot new look in 1992, her teased and sprayed hair tied at the nape of her neck. She was saying something (chirpily) about bringing the pageant into the twenty-first century and how ‘beauty comes in all sizes, so we’re thrilled to have Maisie as our first plus-size cont
estant. Just thrilled.’

  My head felt fuzzy and my stomach churned. The room around me got very quiet and very still.

  On the screen, footage of my sister – thin, beautiful, smiling a dazzling (not desperate) smile – played, while through my haze I caught the words ‘beauty queens run in the family’ and ‘pressure to conform’, before the screen switched back to my face, caught in a moment where I’d been unable to sustain that smile, looking down. I looked up a second later, a grin that was more like a grimace plastered on my face, squeaking out something about how honoured I was just to be there.

  I wanted to be sick. I wanted to faint. I wanted to get the fuck out of there.

  So that’s how I’d got in. It wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t a mistake. It was so much worse.

  I was the token fatty.

  There was more to the video, but by that stage I wasn’t really taking anything in. I could feel everyone in the room glancing my way, sensing my silent freak-out in their midst.

  When the video was over I felt people gathering around me, heard voices talking all at once. Distantly, I registered words: ‘. . . you okay? . . . wasn’t so bad . . . fuck ’em . . . give her some space . . . what’s going on? . . . isn’t this good . . . you’ll show them . . . give her some space!’

  Hands in mine, pulling me up. Arms around me, guiding me outside.

  Grey sky above me. Gasping for breath.

  Deep breaths. In, out. In, out.

  Slowly coming back to myself.

  When I resurfaced, I looked up to see Beamer’s worried face looming above mine. Realised Leila’s arm was around me, holding me up. Saw Anna kneeling in front of me, hand on my leg. Sebastian hovering behind her, concern marking his features.

  Oh god. How embarrassing.

  ‘Don’t be silly, babe. Nothing to be embarrassed about,’ Leila said. Oops. I’d said that out loud.

  ‘Are you alright, Maise?’ This was from Sebastian.