My Fat, Mad Teenage Diary

by Rae Earl

  You know – sometimes with Battered Sausage when he looks at me I feel weird. Like tonight in the pub he was sitting on my knee and just . . . all the eye contact. I could read everything – and yet nothing all at the same time. I wonder if blokes go home and go over and over and over conversations in their head? Do they wonder what really goes on underneath everything? I wonder if there are pages and pages written about me? I mean – blokes must wonder, surely?

  Big party tomorrow night. Excited but also bricking it as I am wearing a dress and will be looking very feminine for me.

  Saturday 30.9.89

  2 p.m.

  IHAVE JUST TRIED ON MY outfit. Oh God, there is all this overhang of flab over the bodice – it looks like I have side tits. I will have to put a jacket over the top. Just tried some make-up too. I always look ridiculous – I am too pale. Blue eye-shadow makes me look like I have been beaten up. Brown eye-shadow makes me look like I am a member of the living dead and haven’t slept for three centuries.

  Oh, you know what, Diary? Forget it! I am going to put the Beatmasters and Betty Boo on full blast, and I am just going to enjoy tonight. I am going to bop till it hurts and have a laugh. I can’t lose six stone before tonight, so I might as well just bloody enjoy it. With a little help from the bottle of Baileys Mum has hidden in the larder behind the Weetabix! HA! I have spotted it!!

  Sunday 1.10.89

  11.33 a.m.

  JUST WOKE UP! THE PARTY at RAF Wittering in the Officers’ Club was completely and utterly brilliant. Vodka and lime was only 40p! I have never felt so rich in my life. I know there’s a chance you could die in a war if you are in the RAF but the subsidised bar is excellent. At the end of the night, though, our taxi was an hour and a half late. Still, everyone was having a laugh outside, near the model of the Harrier jump-jet. Ryan Bates groped me! It was only in a jokey way, though. He’s a bit of a weirdo. His dad wants him to be a vicar – but after seeing him strip nearly naked last night for seemingly no reason at all, I don’t think he is cut out for it.

  New torture, though. Big thanks to the Bangles who created ‘Eternal Flame’ – the new choice for the Leo Mobile Disco end song. Thank God for toilets. Thank God for a cubicle to hide in when the smooch pile of songs come on. Thank God for graffiti – I am happy to read stuff like ‘Vanessa is a slag’ and ‘Bros are toss’ when I am avoiding being left on the edge of the dance floor like the world’s biggest walrus.

  Going down pub tonight. Principally on the hope of seeing Haddock. I have withdrawal symptoms.

  Monday 2.10.89

  7.50 p.m.

  FEEL VERY BAD AT THE moment. Home is very mixed up. Mum is obsessed with immigration forms and legal issues and love . . . and I just feel empty. When I write here, though, I feel better.

  So, last night was brilliant – had the best time with Haddock ever. AND HE WALKED ME HOME. We were having a laugh, and he said a few significant things:

  1) ‘I don’t like people getting to know me.’

  2) ‘I would be really lonely without my girlfriend.’.

  3) Something along the lines of ‘I’m not Haddock without her.’.

  4) ‘I really like you.’ (Felt sick when he said that..

  5) His fit rugby mate said to him, ‘Rae is a good laugh and a good dancer’ – but Haddock didn’t want to tell me that because he thought it might offend me.

  So he drops me off at my front door, and then I can’t sleep. I just was lying there last night listening to the Janis Ian album and wishing. I’m doing it now.

  Tuesday 3.10.89

  8.10 p.m.

  THE SCHOOL NURSE IS AT school tomorrow with her bloody scales – Daisy overheard two teachers organising lessons around it. So today I have been building up the story with Mum. I haven’t eaten anything – yes, it’s a sacrifice, but it makes it more real. I’ve also said hardly anything. If you are loud, everyone knows that there is something wrong when you do this. Mum has just been up to ask, ‘Are you OK?’ I croaked, ‘I’m fine.’ If I had said, ‘I’m feeling poorly,’ she would have sussed it. I have also got a hot-water bottle to put on my forehead so I can fake a temperature! You have to build it up layer by layer. Tomorrow morning I will put a bit of talcum powder on my face. HA!!! I am going to bed now. Yes, it is early – but it adds to the lie. I have even turned the music off. She will think that there is a major problem.

  Wednesday 4.10.89

  3.10 p.m.

  MUM FELL FOR IT THIS morning. I rubbed my head like crazy, she felt it and said, ‘You better stay off today. I think you might have the flu coming.’ She then said, ‘You haven’t got a test or anything, have you?’ I could answer honestly ‘No!’ – BRILLIANT!!

  She went out at about 8.30 a.m. and ever since then I have just been sitting on the sofa watching schools’ programmes. You can learn shitloads off telly! This morning I have learnt about escarpments in The Geography Programme; how a small town like Thetford in Norfolk can market itself as a tourist resort in Near and Far; how milk is bottled in Stop, Look and Listen; and how heat makes metal expand in Experiment. I turned Good Health off as I have seen the episode about bad footwear ‘blockaboots’ about 20 times since the early 80s. In Rainbow, Zippy was still a twat – so I turned that off too.

  I have also just made a new compilation tape. I have called it ‘Fish I Love’ – AKA HADDOCK!!! At the moment here’s what is on it:

  ‘THE BELLE OF ST MARK’ – SHEILA E. It is so Haddock’s song! It’s about a bloke who is brilliantly good-looking but actually doesn’t think that much of himself. Everything fits.

  ‘ACE OF SPADES’ – MOTÖRHEAD. Haddock loves this song.

  ‘CONVOY’ – C. W. McCALL. He always puts this on the Vaults jukebox.

  ‘HOLD YOUR HEAD UP’ – ARGENT. Always on the Vaults jukebox too. It goes on for ever, and is 70s rock shit, but it brings back good memories.

  That’s it at the moment.

  I’ll have to have another day off tomorrow to make it look less suspicious.

  Thursday 5.10.89

  4.40 p.m.

  MUM FELL FOR IT AGAIN this morning. She is currently making me a stew downstairs. I feel a bit guilty as she is being dead nice.

  Getting a bit bored now – so WEIRD!! Just doing fortune-telling with The Guinness Book of British Hit Singles: ask the book a question, then turn to any page. Whatever the song title is, that’s the answer to your question.

  Like I just said to it, ‘Haddock – the future?’ and it said, ‘MADNESS – “It Must Be Love”.’ Honest to God! Total truth. I swear on my cat’s life.

  I also asked about:

  A LEVELS – ‘A Sign of the Times’ by Petula Clark.

  BATTERED SAUSAGE – ‘Apache’ by the Shadows. (OK, this is a bit hit and miss.)

  MY LIFE SONG – ‘I’ve Been in Love Before’ by the Cutting Crew.

  Actually it should be ‘I’ve Been in Love Before But No One Has Been in Love With Me’ by sodding Cutting Crew.

  Friday 6.10.89

  6.16 p.m.

  MUM THOUGHT I MIGHT AS well have the weekend to recover. I feel like mega crap now because she has just bought me a new pair of shoes from Stu’s Shoes on the market, and unbelievably for her – they are really nice. Feel like such a cow.

  I had a totally classic letter from Fig this morning too. The thing I love about Fig is he is sweet and he really bothers. Polytechnic sounds like a right laugh, but I still can’t imagine Fig as a chartered surveyor. He is just too much of a laugh for a boring job. He’ll never be able to do all his impressions if he is having to be serious. I can’t imagine working either. Wonder if you can draw the dole for life? Probably not, with Thatcher in charge.

  Mum just came up and said, ‘I am really proud of you, Rachel – still doing your schoolwork even though you don’t feel very well.’ Couldn’t admit that I’ve only been writing my diary . . . YES, YES, YES. I feel like a total shit.

  I need to make a gradual recovery for tomorrow night, though. Can’t miss a Satur
day at the pub.

  Saturday 7.10.89

  5.35 p.m.

  IHAVE JUST SAID TO MUM that I think I may benefit from some fresh air – I may take a walk. She said, ‘Oh, you’re not going down the pub, are you?’ I said, ‘I might – just for one.’ She said, ‘If you end up with pleurisy, don’t moan to me!’ I said, ‘I won’t! I’ll only have one.’

  Can’t wait to see everyone tonight. I feel like I have been on an island cut off from everything!!

  11.45 p.m.

  BLOODY HELL!!

  Bethany came up to me last night just before she left the pub. Dieter was with her, and she said, ‘Well, Rae – I am about to make your life a whole lot easier. Goodbye, and have a nice life.’ What does that mean??!! Is she eloping to Switzerland with Dieter? I am gagging to find out but she wafted out before I could question her more.

  I only said a few words to Haddock tonight. Him and his girlfriend were mooning over each other. He told me he was working so hard because he wanted to get me a good marriage dowry, and then he said I was a bargain at the price. Oh – that man! Those big bloody eyes. When I see him appear from behind the jukebox my heart leaps ten foot in the air – and it doesn’t matter what song is on – as he floats in. Tonight that rubbish old song ‘A Pub With No Beer’ by Slim Dusty came on, and the atmosphere felt charged even with that on.

  But I have to pretend I don’t care.

  The RAF Wittering party groper Ryan Bates was out tonight. He is a laugh, but he is odd.

  We keep having conversations that go nowhere. For example:

  RYAN: Do you like going to the cinema?

  ME: What’s the punchline to that one, then?

  RYAN: No – I really want to know.

  ME (SARKY QUEEN): Yes, of course you do!

  RYAN: Sort it out.

  What a knob! He must think I’m thick. I’m not setting up his jokes for him! I am no one’s straight man.

  Battered Sausage and I have got a lot closer since he messed up his A levels. I wish people wouldn’t say, ‘Here comes the biggest lad in Stamford,’ as he takes it as the world’s biggest compliment and his head swells. He is, in his own inimitable vocal style, knocking off his bird. I don’t care – girlfriends come and go. Friendships are around for ever.

  When I sit and think about it, this is the compensation I give myself for never getting action: I am adopting the spiritual high ground. But I really would prefer to be having temporary low-down and dirty encounters with men that did only last a couple of months, but who cares!!!

  Sunday 8.10.89

  11.05 p.m.

  IHAVE A STINKING COLD. We did karma in RE in the fifth year, and I can now tell you it exists. I have got a nose like Rudolph, and Mum keeps saying, ‘It was that pub that did it.’ But I am going to school tomorrow. I need to know what is happening with Bethany. This could change everything.

  I taped the charts tonight and I have to say it was full of shit. Richard Marx ‘Right Here Waiting’ is a bloody dirge. Milli Vanilli ‘Girl, I’m Gonna Miss You’ is just soppy crap. I compare it to, say, five years ago, and pop has lost its way. I know it has.

  Monday 9.10.89

  4.02 p.m.

  BETHANY IS LEAVING STAMFORD – THIS IS POSSIBLY THE BEST NEWS EVER.

  She has to, as her dad has got a new job or something . . . ANYWAY – SHE IS GOING!!!

  And you know what that means – no more worry. No more being uncomfortable. NO MORE BETHANY.

  THE DEPARTURE OF THE BETRAYER

  Goodbye, then, the betrayer.

  EVERY TIME you took and stole

  And made the men I loved a prize

  (Exploiting your much smaller size).

  And now you are gone my field is clear

  I will get those I hold dear.

  To demean me was your intention

  You’ve lost now – I am the centre of attention.

  HA!!

  It was brilliant at school today. The thought of no more HER being a sarky cow is brilliant. AND the school nurse isn’t due in again until next year, AND I missed a surprise history timed essay. It has just been superb today.

  Just reading back . . . I am beginning to think I may have been a bit of a prat over Haddock. I mean – he’s just a bloke, isn’t he? Nobody must ever find this diary. All the bits about him are bloody embarrassing.

  Tuesday 10.10.89

  11.06 p.m.

  IWASN’T A PRAT OVER HADDOCK.

  He is a one-off. Different. Worth thinking about, worth wishing about. My love for him is real and true – I can’t imagine a time when I don’t think about him. I can’t imagine a time when I don’t beg for the moments when I might bump into him.

  We played a brilliant game at school today: ‘How much to shag . . . ?’ which quite simply means how much would you have to get paid to do it with certain men:

  Compo from Last of the Summer Wine – £1million.

  Prince Charles – £10,000. None of us can understand what Diana is doing with him, apart from the money.

  Dirty Den from EastEnders – actually only about £1,000. He is old but he ‘has something’.

  Dave Lee Travis – £100,000. It’s the beard.

  Cliff Richard – we all decided no point speculating. He wouldn’t do it until he was married anyway.

  Wednesday 11.10.89

  5.16 p.m.

  FOLLOWING ON FROM YESTERDAY, a great conversation today: ‘How much would you pay to do . . . ?’ How much money would you give (if money was no option) certain blokes to do it with you? Not just a shag – say, a weekend in a country hotel where they were dead nice to you. It’s unbelievable who people fancy!!

  Marti Pellow from Wet Wet Wet – everybody agreed at least £50K. We all think he would be dead sweet.

  Jason Donovan – at least £40K. But he might love himself a bit too much. And we all think he would never get over being with Kylie, even though he says he never has been with her.

  Morrissey – £10K. Might get on your tits all

  weekend if he is on a downer.

  Phillip Schofield – £60K. Best to lose your

  virginity to. He would be dead sweet.

  Bruce Willis – £30K, from the people who have just seen him in Moonlighting. The people who have seen him in Die Hard reckon he is worth more than that.

  Jonathan Ross from The Last Resort – I said this one! Even with a lisp which would make most blokes geeky there is just something about him. I would pay £30K.

  Michael J. Fox – £10K. Cute but too short.

  DC Carver from The Bill. Daisy said she would pay £7K, but the rest of us say he needs to pay us for a weekend.

  For the record: Haddock – I would rob every bank in Britain.

  Thursday 12.10.89

  IALWAYS HAVE TO PLAY THE joker. I always go into that role when I am in a group. I hate that in me. At school today Jasmine dared me to go into the lunch queue twice. I had four fishcakes, two scoops of creamed potatoes, peas, cheese and biscuits, and then Angel Delight. Did it for a laugh – but then felt sick all the way through double history. Scoured the room – full of pretty girls with futures that just burst with boyfriends and big dreamy wedding days, and then there’s me – Humpty Dumpty perched on the chair. Humpty Rae on the wall, Humpty Rae had a big fall. And NO BUGGER HELPED HER UP, THEY JUST HAD A BLOODY GOOD LAUGH.

  Probably.

  Friday 13.10.89

  U NBELIEVABLE . . . MUM CAME IN TONIGHT, threw a Rosemary Conley book at me and said, ‘You are fat – lose some weight.’ Right, dear . . . I am going to, and I will show you – just to spite you. Then I’ll be the one with the boyfriends, and you will be bricking yourself that I may get up the duff and never go to your sodding precious university.

  Saturday 14.10.89

  8.02 p.m.

  WELL, IT’S A SATURDAY NIGHT but I am going nowhere. Terrible day. Went to buy some jeans from Sevens. Very sweet young assistant kept getting bigger and bigger sizes. She went downstairs to the men’s section – eventu
ally got one pair that fitted. I am a 38 waist. 38. 38. 38. 38. Huge. If a 14 is a 28-inch waist, then I am a . . . SIZE 24!!

  Got them. Went along the High Street in a daze. I think someone’s mum said hello to me outside Tesco but I was off it. You know when you can feel you are about to sob and sob? Saw the old bookshop Staniland and headed upstairs to room 4 ‘Religion’ because no one goes in there – sat in the leather chair and just cried and cried. Just could not believe I have got this big. Must have been there for about half an hour. Thought I better buy something so went downstairs with the Ladybird Book of Ballet – it was only 70p. Bloke there with the beard is so sweet. I love that bookshop.

  Now back in my room and staying here. Thinking about what to do and how to do it. It will take me ages to become ONE OF THEM – the skinny ones. We would have left school by that time. So sat here, resigned to hoping that one man can see through it all, and hoping that man is Haddock.

  I think Mum realised I was upset because she announced that we would have a Chinese tonight. Hence I am writing this with a battered bit of pork in my gob, feeling a little bit better.

  Sunday 15.10.89

  5.10 p.m.

  ANOTHER BORING SUNDAY. STARTING A diet tomorrow. I have to. I can’t be this fat.

  It seems logical to me that like an addict I must clear temptation from my way. So today while Mum was at Nan’s, I cleaned out the cupboards. All fat gone. Crisps, Lincoln biscuits, Clubs, cakes, K. P. Skips – EVERYTHING GONE.

  Keep looking at my jeans. They are huge. I know I am fat but I must have the opposite of anorexia because every time I look in the mirror I know I’m fat – but not that HUGE.

  I must see myself smaller. God, I have to get thinner.

  Monday 16.10.89

  6.45 p.m.

  M UM CAME HOME LAST NIGHT and went mad about binned food. God knows why, because half the stuff we get we get cheap. Mum got eight Mr Kipling French Fancies the other day for 12p, just because the packet was ripped. It’s for the best.