We’d been at work for a little while when our tentative peace was threatening to explode.
‘Not too poufy!’ I was saying to Eva as she teased my hair. ‘No, no pink eyeshadow.’ I swatted Mum’s hand away.
‘That’s it, everyone out,’ Bess said.
Mum and Eva both looked at her in surprise.
‘Maisie and I have got this.’ She shooed them out the door, Mum muttering under her breath but, surprisingly, obeying.
‘Alright.’ Bess turned to me with a smile. ‘Now tell me exactly what you want.’
With skilled hands, she helped me get my hair into soft waves that I was happy with, and finished off my make-up with a perfect winged eyeliner and just the right amount of highlighter.
As she worked, we chatted. She told me about growing up in Melbourne and how she’d lived in Paris for a year when she turned eighteen. She asked me what I wanted to do after school, and listened as I talked about how stressed I was about not having any idea. She said it was okay not to have it all figured out yet.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I said to her after a while.
She smiled as she leaned over me, ready to glue false lashes onto my eyelids. ‘You can ask me anything.’
‘How did you get to be so brave?’ I closed my eyes.
‘Brave?’
I swallowed hard. ‘Yeah, I mean . . . I’m kind of shitting myself right now. I’ve spent the past few years hiding and trying not to draw attention to myself . . . or my body. I’ve never even been brave enough to wear a bikini to the beach. And in a matter of hours I’m supposed to get up there and wear one on stage. I’m completely ridiculous.’
‘You are not ridiculous. You’re awesome. Ah-Maise-ing, even.’ I could hear the smile in her voice. ‘And you’re brave.’
‘You think so?’
‘Yeah, I do. Look, you asked how I got to be so brave? You mean, how am I brave enough to wear a bikini on the beach?’
‘Yeah,’ I mumbled. Something about the way she said it made me really embarrassed.
‘I just stopped thinking of it as brave. I mean, you don’t think Eva is brave for going to the beach in a bikini, do you? Or anyone else? That’s what you wear to the beach. A bikini. The idea that wearing one is a brave act just because you’re not a stick figure is kind of fucked up.’
‘Oh. Um, I’m sorry.’
‘No, no, I don’t mean you. I mean, like, society. Most people think that way – and they’re the “nice” ones. Because fat bodies still aren’t acceptable. I’m fighting to change that; a lot of people are. And I think that’s brave – standing up for what you believe in. But me, just existing in my body? Wearing things that perform a function? Nah, I don’t think that’s brave.’
I was quiet, trying to process everything she was telling me.
‘But you are brave,’ she continued. ‘You’re brave because you’re scared to do this, and you’re doing it anyway. Because you’re going after what you want, and you’re not listening to any haters – including the hater inside your own head. That takes a lot of guts. It’s not something I could’ve done at your age.’
‘Really?! But you’re so confident.’
‘I wasn’t always. It’s taken a lot of work for me to love myself. You’re already way ahead of me.’
I opened my eyes, the glue finally set on my lashes. Bess was smiling at me with a look of pride. I felt a surge of affection.
‘But now you really love yourself?’ I asked.
‘I really, really love myself. I mean, I still have bad days – who doesn’t? But I have more good days.’
‘Well,’ I said with a shaky laugh. ‘Here’s hoping today is a good day.’
‘Today is most definitely going to be a good day.’ She stepped back and held a mirror up to my face.
I grinned at my reflection. ‘I think you’re right.’
*
By the time Bess and I emerged from the bedroom, Leila had arrived with the dress and cover-up she’d made for me. She was in the middle of saying something to Mum, but stopped to call out, ‘Woot-woo!’
Eva and Dad joined in, and Mum said, ‘Are you sure you don’t –’ but got a gentle whack from Eva sitting next to her, so she didn’t finish her sentence. Instead she said, ‘You look lovely, Missy-May.’
‘Are you ready to see your dress?’ Leila asked with a grin. I’d texted her the night before, when Dad and I were on our way back, and she’d replied straight away: YAS! I knew you’d be back. You’re not a Schwarzenegger fan for nothing, amirite? Your dress is ready by the way. Waiting for you.
It made me a bit emotional, that little message. And when I finally saw what she’d made, I got a lot emotional. I was stunned. And a little queasy.
You know that saying – Rome wasn’t built in a day? Well, neither was my self-confidence. Looking at the sheer piece of fabric that was supposed to separate my bikini body from hundreds of judgemental eyes was not what you’d call a thrill. And the dress Leila had made, while gorgeous, wasn’t exactly what we’d discussed. It was a two-piece – a black crop top to go with a long A-line skirt in the bright fabric we’d bought on Boxing Day. I didn’t want to be ungrateful – she’d done an amazing job, and I appreciated all the work she’d put in – but I wasn’t sure I could wear it.
Eva and Bess were ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’, and even Mum, who’d been doubting the whole project, said, ‘Wow.’ Dad sniffed and said, ‘I like those swirly bits.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, reaching out to touch it. But Leila knew me better by now.
‘I know what you’re going to say, babe, and I don’t want to hear a word of it. I have another option as backup, just in case, but I want you to try this on and tell me you don’t feel like a million bucks, okay?’
I smiled and took the garment from her. ‘Okay. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure, my dear. Now go! I want to see it on!’
I emerged a couple of minutes later, still unsure. There was no full-length mirror in my bedroom, so I hadn’t been able to see myself properly. I was relieved there was only an inch of skin showing between the top and the skirt, although even that was more than I’d normally share.
I crossed my fingers and tried to gauge the reactions of the others as I stepped into the lounge room. Everyone was silent for a moment.
Eva was the first to break the silence. ‘Oh, Maise, you look gorgeous.’
‘Smokin’!’ Bess said. Dad gave me a thumbs-up. Leila was grinning.
And Mum . . . Mum had tears in her eyes. She got up and grabbed my hands. ‘Oh, you look absolutely breathtaking,’ she said, pulling me into her bedroom, where there was a full-length mirror.
As the other girls filed in behind me, I took it all in. The dress really was gorgeous. I was gorgeous. The top fitted my body perfectly, and the skirt made me feel like a princess (a really cool one). The inch of skin in between? It even made me feel a little bit sexy. For the first time in – well, ever – I contemplated actually liking my midriff.
I felt, as Leila had promised, like a million bucks.
I grinned and ran my hands over the smooth fabric of the skirt.
‘Oh my god,’ I squealed in delight. ‘It has pockets!’
‘Of course! Every girl deserves pockets,’ Leila said. She bit her lip. ‘So you like it?’
‘I love it. You did a brilliant job. Thank you so, so much.’
‘What a talented little thing you are,’ Mum said, patting her on the shoulder.
Leila grinned. ‘Well, I’m glad you like it. Because I didn’t really have a backup option.’
I laughed. And in that moment, surrounded by those women, all laughing and exclaiming and embracing me, I felt more confident than I ever had in my entire life.
*
I’m glad I had that moment, because by the time I got changed back into more casual clothes (so as not to crumple my dress) and was in the car on the way to the hotel with Mum, Dad and about fifty bags of clothes, accessories, shoes, m
ake-up and other assorted tools that Mum had loaded up ‘just in case’, I was beginning to feel sick again.
We registered and Mum helped me schlepp all my stuff backstage into the dressing room. There were a few girls in there already, fiddling in front of the mirrors. I looked down quickly, not wanting to catch their eyes. Mum was starting to unpack my bags and arrange my things.
I grabbed her hands. ‘Mum, go find a seat with Dad. It’s cool. I got this,’ I said, even though I wasn’t entirely sure I did got this.
Mum had tears in her eyes again. She ran a hand over my hair without actually touching it – she’d never let affection ruin a good hairdo.
‘I’m so proud of you,’ she said, pulling me into a hug – still careful not to mess up my hair and make-up. Into my ear, she said, ‘That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten you’re grounded, by the way.’
I laughed, because I hoped she was joking, even though I knew better than that.
‘Good luck,’ she said, releasing me. ‘We’ll be cheering for you.’
She blew me a kiss as she walked out the door.
A few more girls were filing in. One girl looked me up and down and smirked. Another whispered something to her friend. Probably not about me. Don’t be so self-centred, Maisie. Not everything is about you.
Deep breaths. Deeeeeep breaths.
A pretty brunette hung up her garment bag next to mine.
‘Hi,’ she said, with a dimpled smile. ‘I’m Tia.’ She reached out her hand for me to shake.
‘Oh, um, hi,’ I said, awkwardly taking her hand and introducing myself.
‘Is this your first pageant?’ she asked.
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘You look kinda terrified. Don’t worry, it’s going to be fun. I’ve done this one a couple of times. Let me know if you have any questions.’
I thanked her, feeling myself relax just a tiny bit. It was nice to have a friendly face in the room.
Then Tia began undressing. Looking around, I saw other girls in various states of dress/undress. A couple were already in their evening wear, which was our first section (evening wear in the morning? The beauty pageant industry really was revolutionary).
‘Wait. We get changed in here?’ I said, trying to keep the note of panic out of my voice. Failing.
‘Yeah. It is the dressing room,’ Tia said with a laugh. Standing there in her black strapless bra and undies.
Oh god. I couldn’t do this.
‘Where’s the bathroom?’ I squeaked.
When I returned, fully dressed in my gown, Tia raised an eyebrow but said, ‘You look great.’
‘Thanks, so do you,’ I said. And she did. She was wearing a candy pink gown with jewels down the front and an explosion of ruffles at the bottom. Leila would say it was hideous.
My phone buzzed. Speak of the devil. Leila had sent me a selfie, posing with Hannah and Jo, the words We’re here! You’re going to kill it scrawled over the top.
I sent her one back with a crown filter before noticing I had a message from Anna, too.
Good luck today x.
I sent her a thanks with a smiley face, and took a deep breath. I was ready.
I was adjusting myself in the mirror – making sure everything was where it should be – when chirpy Janice entered the room. ‘Alright, girls, today is the day! Don’t you all look lovely.’
My stomach twisted as I was reminded of the video debacle. I shook my head, shaking the memory from my system. The girl standing next to me gave me a curious look, but I just smiled and looked back at Janice, focusing on the information she was delivering.
‘Okay, so when you’re out on stage you’ll see there’s a catwalk. Isn’t it exciting? You’re going to walk down it towards the judges at the end, do your thing, shake that booty – but not too much, keep it PG, ha ha ha – then you turn back and come off stage. Okay? Wonderful. Now, each girl should step on stage as the last girl is nearing the end of the catwalk, so you will overlap. At the end you’ll all line up and walk out together. Okay? Fabulous.’
She called out our names in the order we were to go on and we got ourselves in formation. I was towards the end.
I heard a ‘tut’ behind me and turned around to see the girl who’d looked me up and down earlier. She did it again as I watched her.
‘Are you right?’ I said.
She smiled a slimy Regina George smile at me. ‘Oh, I was just hoping the catwalk is wide enough.’
Now, I had three options in that moment. I could:
a) Grab her by her hair extensions and put her in the bin.
b) Run away and cry.
c) Ignore her and rock that catwalk.
I was tempted to do a. I almost did b. That was my MO, as Anna had said.
But my dad’s voice ran through my head: ‘Don’t give them that power. That power is yours.’
So – spoiler alert – I did c.
I turned around and took a deep breath.
‘Isn’t this exciting?!’ the redheaded girl in front of me said over her shoulder, jumping up and down a little as we started moving.
‘Yeah, it is.’
My heart thumped as we got closer and closer to the stage. My mouth was dry. Now Mum’s words flashed through my mind: ‘Shoulders back, chin up, smile, strut!’
I focused on the music. On the rhythm. On the lyrics. It was Beyoncé, singing about putting love on top.
I smiled. Breathed.
My shoulders were back, my chin was up.
And I strutted.
I freaking rocked that catwalk.
I couldn’t see my family and friends in the crowd, but I heard cheering off to my right.
At the end of the catwalk, I made eye contact with the judges, posed once, twice, and twirled around to strut right back again. As I passed Regina (whose real name I later found out was Vicki, like that matters) I winked.
I was absolutely buzzing.
When we all filed back on stage after the last girl had taken her turn, I got a chance to glance in the direction from which I’d heard the cheering.
I saw Mum and Dad. Eva and Bess. Leila, Hannah and Jo. All the Lees. And Beamer.
Everyone was there. Well, not everyone. My mind briefly went to Anna and a fleeting feeling of sadness came over me. Then I let the music wash back into my skin, took in the clapping of the crowd, and reminded myself this was my moment. And the people who loved me best were there.
*
‘That was wonderful, ladies – wonderful! Now you have fifteen minutes before our next section. Chop, chop: you need to be ready on cue or you will miss out. Fabulous!’ Janice whirled out of the room, leaving the smell of cheap perfume hanging in the air.
This was the moment I’d been dreading (well, one of them): the swimwear section. I went back to the bathroom to change and re-entered the dressing room in the black floral bikini Eva and Bess had given me, and the cover-up Leila had made. It too was black, with a deep V that accentuated my cleavage. The material was sheer, but not overly so. It fell to mid-thigh and covered all the areas I was most self-conscious about. When I looked in the mirror, I felt lighter. Some of the nerves that had been weighing me down dissipated. They didn’t disappear completely, but I felt better. Actually, I felt pretty damn good.
As I was smoothing out my hair, smiling at myself in the mirror, Regina sidled up behind me with an obnoxious ‘ahem’.
I looked at her reflection. She was wearing a crocheted bikini and a giant sunhat.
She crossed her arms. ‘Can I get some room? You’re not the only one who needs to use the mirror, you know.’
I looked down the line of girls already gathered in front of the wall-length mirror. There was still plenty of room – including space right next to me.
I smiled, and in my sweetest voice I told her so.
Her top lip drew up in a sneer. ‘You’re taking up all the space,’ she spat out.
I didn’t drop my smile. ‘Maybe if you took off that hat, you’d have more room
.’
‘Come on, Vicki, there’s room over here,’ a girl called Alana said, grabbing Regina’s arm and gently guiding her to the other end of the room.
‘Don’t worry about her,’ Tia said, sliding closer to me. She was wearing a strapless one-piece with a metal belt around the middle. She rested her manicured hand on my arm and smiled. ‘I think you’re really brave, you know.’
Brave. There was that word again.
Brave.
Brave. Brave. Brave.
Was I brave? Just by being there? By wearing those clothes? By going on stage? By facing my fears?
What was I really afraid of?
I was afraid of being alone.
But I wasn’t alone.
I was afraid of being seen.
But I was putting myself out there to be seen.
I was afraid of being laughed at, ridiculed, made to feel ashamed.
But people did that anyway. I did that to myself.
I’d resolved to stop being ashamed.
I’d resolved to stop running and hiding.
What was I really afraid of?
Two pieces of material? A bikini?
Enough.
I’ll show them brave, I thought.
I pulled off the beautiful cover-up that Leila had made. Sorry, Leila. But I knew she’d understand.
I looked at myself in the mirror, surrounded by all those tiny girls in their tiny swimsuits.
And I saw the rolls on my belly. And the dimples on my thighs. And – No. Stop, Maisie. Stop. Look. What else do you see?
My eyes. My eyebrows. My ears. My hair. My fingernails. My boobs. My forearms. My smile. That bit of neck, just below my ear, next to my jaw. My midriff.
My guts.
Brave.
*
I tried to block out the whispers and sniggers behind me as we walked towards the stage. I had goosebumps all over. My stomach churned.
Was I about to make a huge mistake?!
Another snigger from behind spurred me on.
I tuned out those noises and tuned into the music. It was a Santigold song I really loved.
I stepped out on stage. My heart was pounding.
What I Like About Me Page 16