Pretty Girls Don't Eat

by Winnie Salamon

  ‘Awesome,’ George stated. ‘I’m in love.’

  Melody was quiet as George told us that he and James were talking about going to Vietnam over the summer break.

  ‘I’m not sure if my parents will let me, though,’ George contemplated. ‘And I don’t really have any money …’

  Poor George. He was so excited about his new relationship but Melody and I weren’t the most animated audience. I was still feeling a little light-headed and dizzy after last night’s purge and Melody, well … she seemed distracted.

  ‘What’s up with you two?’ George asked.

  ‘I think I’m getting the flu,’ I lied.

  ‘Yeah,’ Melody agreed. ‘Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me, too. And I’ve got a meeting with Jane tomorrow, she’s just come back from Paris fashion week or something. I’m so nervous. What am I supposed to wear?’

  ‘Model off duty,’ I replied with authority. ‘Skinny jeans, ankle boots. Slouchy blazer. You want to look chic without trying too hard.’

  ‘What about my hair?’

  ‘Topknot. Bit of lip gloss, some mascara. You want to highlight your natural beauty, show that you’re a low maintenance, yet exotic, girl-next-door type.’

  ‘Wow,’ Melody said. ‘Um … thanks.’

  ‘No problem.’ I tried to act as nonchalant as possible.

  Then it was time to go back to class and I spent the afternoon forcing myself to pay attention as Linda, our psychology teacher, talked about Pavlov’s dog.

  ‘Winter,’ Linda said. ‘Are you all right?’

  I didn’t have any friends who studied psych and I was sitting on my own.

  ‘Winter,’ she repeated. ‘You’re looking a little pale. Maybe you should go home.’

  It’s not often that a teacher gives you permission to go home, so I didn’t argue. Instead I packed up my things and stood, holding the table as a dizzy spell almost toppled me over.

  Linda looked concerned. ‘Do you need to call your mum or dad?’

  ‘I’m okay,’ I told her. ‘I think I’m getting the flu. I’ll go straight to bed when I get home.’

  ‘All right,’ Linda said. ‘If you think you can manage.’

  The walk home wasn’t easy, but I got there. Nobody was home but on the doorstep there was an old pastel pink tape recorder that looked like it was straight from the 80s. Stuck to it was a note quoting Smiths lyrics.

  Oliver.

  My whole body tingled with excitement. I went inside and sat on my bed and turned on the tape. There was Oliver’s voice. ‘Hey, Winter. If you’re listening to this I guess you’ve found my tape. I just wanted to say I think you’re awesome. I hope you like these tracks. Every song reminds me of you.’

  I was smiling so hard, I felt like I was starring in my own real-life romantic comedy.

  I lay in bed listening to Oliver’s selection of 80s love songs. There was ‘I Melt With You’ by Modern English. ‘Another Girl, Another Planet’ by The Only Ones. ‘Against all Odds’ by Phil Collins, a song we had both admitted to secretly liking. ‘Prove My Love’ by the Violent Femmes and ‘I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend’ by the Ramones.

  I lay in bed, my face burning with embarrassment, my heart beating with excitement.

  It would have been one of the best moments of my life if only I hadn’t been feeling so sick.

  Chapter 28: Tell it Like it Is

  When I woke up it was night-time. I was so thirsty I walked into the kitchen wearing a T-shirt and knickers, my make-up still on and my hair all over the place. I felt like I was going to pass out.

  But still, I was so happy about Oliver’s tape I never could have predicted what was about to happen next.

  ‘Oh! Winter. You scared the shit out of me.’

  Mum was sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, half a chocolate cake and a jar of peanut butter in front of her.

  ‘Sorry, I was just getting a drink.’

  ‘You were fast asleep when I got home from the gym,’ she said. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yeah, just a tummy bug or something.’

  Mum’s hair needed a brush and she was wearing old leggings and a tatty grey T-shirt that I think used to be my dad’s. There was a smudge of chocolate icing on her top and around her mouth.

  ‘I just had this terrible sugar craving.’ Mum laughed nervously. ‘Goodness. I haven’t eaten a carb since 2001!’

  Even though Mum was trying to make a joke out of it, there was no getting around the fact that this moment in the kitchen was unsettling. Was my mum a binge eater? Or was this just a one-off?

  ‘Mum,’ I said. I couldn’t meet her eyes. ‘Are you okay?’

  Mum sighed, exhausted. ‘You’d better sit down.’

  I wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could. But Mum was trying to reach out and I could see that she had something important to say.

  ‘I know I give you a hard time about your weight,’ she said. ‘I don’t mean to. I mean, I guess I thought I was helping, stopping you from ending up all neurotic like me. I thought that if you always stayed slim you would never have to worry about trying to lose. You wouldn’t end up all messed up about your body.’

  Was my mother trying to tell me that she had an eating disorder? It was hard to tell. Which made me angry. I started shaking. I had never told Mum how she made me feel. I had never told her that I always felt like I wasn’t good enough because I was too fat and ugly to be her daughter. That I thought she was embarrassed by me because I wasn’t hot and skinny, with boys desperate to date me. That I had failed her and everyone else in this good-looking family. Did it even matter that Spencer wasn’t that smart? He was gorgeous, and to Mum that counted for more than smarts or creativity or funniness.

  But that night I told her.

  ‘You’re right.’ I was getting angry. ‘It is your fault.’

  Mum looked puzzled.

  ‘It’s your fault that I feel like I’m fat and not good enough. You should feel bad because you are so obsessed with food and body image and then you passed it all on to me.’

  Once I was going I couldn’t stop myself.

  ‘All you care about is how you look. You think it’s everything. But what about being smart or funny or clever? What about all the things I am good at? You’re supposed to love me no matter what and you don’t. You should feel bad.’

  ‘Oh, Winter.’ Mum sobbed. ‘I do love you. I do think you’re beautiful.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ I rolled my eyes.

  ‘I’m so proud.’

  In that moment I hated her. And I felt sorry for her. And I was so angry I felt like I would blow up. All those years she’d pretended she was some kind of food-saint, someone who never craved junk food and who had willpower made of steel. When really, she was just a closet bulimic, pretending that her perfect figure was all down to roller derby and green smoothies.

  ‘I wish you weren’t my mum,’ I yelled. ‘You’re pathetic!’

  I stood and walked out. Leaving Mum to sit alone with her peanut butter and crumbs and her tears and her self-pity. I didn’t look back because I knew that if I did I would see a person who looked like an old withered-up balloon, deflated and helpless. A person with nothing left but grief.

  You probably hate me now. Who would say those things to their mum when her own mother had committed suicide not long ago? And of course I wished straight away that I hadn’t said them. I wished I could have told Mum that I loved her and that I understood. But I couldn’t help myself. I was just that angry. I didn’t even know why, not really. I just knew that I was mad and that I’d had enough of feeling that way.

  Besides, it was too late. Some things you can never take back, no matter how many times you say you’re sorry.

  Chapter 29: A Keeper

  I made an extra special effort getting ready for work that Saturday morning. I wore the emerald green sheath dress that Mabel gave me to wear at work and I’d paired it with some faux diamond stud earrings that I’d made a point of buying from her sho
p. I was determined to impress Mabel with my hard work and enthusiasm, making it clear that I had no interest in stealing her thunder.

  ‘You look gorgeous!’ she exclaimed, dragging her A-frame onto the footpath. ‘I love that colour on you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I mumbled. ‘It’s a beautiful dress.’

  We went inside and I started tidying the racks before opening.

  After work on the day of the jumpsuit incident, Mabel encouraged me to try on half her inventory to figure out what I wanted to wear as my work uniform. She didn’t seem mad any more, giving me styling advice and telling me what looked good and what didn’t. It was fun, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d seriously stuffed up.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I told Mabel as I colour-coordinated a rack of pencil skirts. ‘I shouldn’t have encouraged that customer to buy my designs instead of yours.’

  ‘Look,’ Mabel said. ‘I was pissed off, but the truth is, it’s cut-throat out there and the fact that you have paying customers when you’re, what, sixteen, is amazing. I’m sorry I came down hard on you. Running a business can get pretty stressful.’

  ‘I think you do an awesome job,’ I replied, honestly.

  ‘Thanks,’ Mabel said. ‘I know I haven’t told you, but you are doing a really great job. I’m lucky to have you.’

  I wasn’t sure if it was unprofessional, but I was bursting to tell someone about the mix tape Oliver had given me. So I told Mabel.

  ‘Oooh,’ Mabel teased. ‘You’re in love.’

  ‘Well … I’m not sure if it’s love.’

  ‘Of course you are. Good lord, if a boy left an old-school mix tape like that on my doorstep I’d be jumping him in a second.’

  I blushed.

  ‘You know what I mean.’ Mabel laughed. ‘Go for it is my advice. He sounds like a keeper. Are you seeing him tonight?’

  ‘Yeah. He’s coming over to my place.’

  ‘Wear that dress,’ Mabel commanded. ‘You look smokin’.’

  Chapter 30: You Might Be Dog Ugly, but at Least You’re Not Bitter and Twisted

  ‘Sometimes I wish I wasn’t the one with the “great personality”.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  A person might not notice it at first, but as I looked at him, sitting in the sunlight in the backyard, I could see that Oliver was totally cute, but in a ginger-haired Ian Curtis kind of way. The type that Japanese girls have the hots for. I know all about Ian Curtis because my dad is a huge Joy Division fan which has turned me into one, too. Mum says they’re too depressing, even though she loves Nirvana. Go figure.

  ‘Has anyone ever told you that you totally resemble Ian Curtis?’

  ‘Really?’ Oliver looked pleased. ‘You think so?’

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘You’re changing the subject. What’s with the whole personality thing? You do have a great personality. Isn’t that good?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘If it didn’t mean you might be dog ugly, but at least you’re not bitter and twisted about it.’

  ‘That’s not what it means!’ Oliver said. ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes. It’s what people say to homely girls.’

  ‘Well, I promise I will never, ever again tell you that you have a great personality. Instead I will say you have great tits.’

  ‘That’s more like it. I guess Melody’s glamorous new career is making me a bit jelly.’

  I told Oliver all about Melody and the fact that she was now going to be the next Gigi Hadid. And that she was spotted at a daggy shopping centre outside Kmart.

  ‘Wow, I didn’t think things like that actually happened in real life.’

  ‘Me neither,’ I replied.

  ‘You know,’ Oliver contemplated, ‘Melody is beautiful, but she isn’t you. I love you even though you have an awesome personality.’

  ‘You love me?’

  ‘Yes,’ Oliver said shyly.

  And then we kissed.

  ‘I love you too,’ I murmured.

  Oliver brushed the hair from my face and kissed me again, tenderly, his hands moving along my body. I flinched. I didn’t want him to feel the fat rolls around my stomach.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

  I kissed him instead of answering and this time when Oliver’s hands went to my breasts, I let him. So long as I keep my bra on, I thought, he won’t be able to tell that my boobs are not quite the same size.

  We fooled around for a while, clothes on the entire time, and then I lay in Oliver’s arms while he stroked my hair.

  ‘I’m starving,’ he said. ‘Wanna get UberEats?’

  ‘Okay.’

  The only downside to hanging out with Oliver is that he loves to eat so much his friends call him ‘The Digestor’. It’s easy for him because he’s tall and skinny and has no concept of what it means to be fat. I don’t think Oliver is even physically capable of gaining weight. The last thing I’d ever want would be for him to find out how messed up my body image insecurities have become, so I pretend to eat like a normal person when we’re together, which is not only fattening, but anxiety-inducing to boot.

  Mum came home when we were sitting in the kitchen eating burgers. She was wearing a beaded dress from Sass & Bide that made her look like red carpet material. I took a huge bite of my bun as she walked into the room and looked her right in the eye. Mum pretended not to notice.

  ‘Hi there. I’m Sienna, Winter’s mum.’ Mum smiled quizzically at Oliver.

  Then she shook Oliver’s hand and, to give her credit, she didn’t say anything embarrassing. In fact, she was on her best behaviour and left us alone after making small talk about Oliver’s school and where he lives and how he met me.

  ‘She seems nice,’ Oliver commented after Mum left the room.

  ‘Looks can be deceiving,’ I replied as I secretly counted calories inside my head.

  Chapter 31: My Friends Suck

  After Oliver left my place at midnight I forced myself not to take any laxatives. It wasn’t easy. I could feel that burger sitting in my stomach like a bomb loaded with lard. But I didn’t want to ruin the night by ending it with more diarrhoea so I opened up my sketchbook and jotted down some dress design ideas until I fell asleep.

  In fact, I managed to get through an entire week of school without purging. When I wanted to eat, I sewed, and most evenings after dinner I walked to the dog park with Oliver and Bruce.

  I can do this, I said to myself. I can stay thin and not keep taking those pills.

  But then Friday night came.

  It had been months since George, Melody and I had a movie night and it felt like forever since the three of us had hung out. I missed my friends and I was looking forward to lounging around in George’s living room watching zombie movies.

  ‘My parents scored another massive corporate cleaning job,’ George told us as we walked in the door of his small, meticulously tidy two-bedroom terrace. ‘They’re working all weekend and won’t be back for ages.’

  ‘Awesome,’ said Melody. ‘Cathy is amazing but she doesn’t go out much. Her friends come over and they play bridge and drink gin. Or she watches Netflix.’

  ‘I’ve been avoiding my parents for weeks,’ I said looking at the ground. ‘Ever since Mum and I had that fight we’ve barely spoken.’

  ‘That sounds stressful,’ Melody said.

  ‘I guess,’ I said. ‘It’s okay.’

  We took off our shoes and George headed to the kitchen to set up his famous dinosaur-shaped popcorn-making machine. Melody and I turned off the lights in the TV room and got everything ready for the movies.

  ‘I’m so hungry,’ George said, carrying in a giant bowl of popcorn. ‘Want me to run down the street and get fish and chips?’

  ‘Yes, please!’ Melody’s stomach actually grumbled. ‘I’ll have a piece of flake and a couple of potato cakes, thanks.’

  ‘What about you, Winter?’ George looked at me expectantly.

  ‘I’m not super hungry.’ I was really hungry after
my shift at Mabel’s, but the mere thought of downing hundreds of empty calories was practically giving me heart palpitations.

  ‘Just get the same as me,’ Melody suggested. ‘You’ll probably feel like eating by the time George gets back.’

  George was out the door before I had a chance to protest or make up some lie about turning vegan. As much as I feared gaining weight, there was a part of me that missed being fat, the relief of being able to eat without feeling like every mouthful counted for something. Back when I was fat the damage had already been done, the worst had happened, my stomach bulged and my thighs chafed and sure, I could still get bigger, but once you hit a certain point a kilo or two doesn’t pack much of a punch. But when you lose weight all that changes. Gaining weight suddenly feels like the worst thing that can ever happen. Sure, the fat clothes I couldn’t be bothered adjusting were sitting lonely in an op-shop somewhere, waiting for another girl like the person I used to be. But I knew I couldn’t become complacent, that the old fat Winter could resurface in a matter of weeks. Fish and chips for dinner, a burger with Oliver, a bowl of ice-cream. It wouldn’t take long for the weight to creep back on.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Melody looked at me with concern. ‘You look pale.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, working super hard to control my breathing. ‘Probably just low blood sugar.’

  On cue, George walked through the front door. ‘Dinner is served, ladies,’ he half-sang in a pretend posh voice.

  The fish and chips smelt salty and greasy and delicious. They were a favourite before I declared fried food to be the work of the devil.

  ‘Yum,’ I said in my best authentically enthusiastic voice. ‘I haven’t had fish and chips for ages!’

  We ate on the couch. George told us that he and James were having a break from each other this weekend.

  ‘Oh, George!’ I was concerned. ‘What happened? Why didn’t you tell us?’

  ‘Seriously, it’s no big deal,’ George said. ‘You might have noticed how much we’ve been hanging out lately. We don’t want to kill the romance by overdoing it, that’s all.’