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Bluebell's 2019


swahilimonkfish

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A sequel in Blubell's 2020 would be interesting , obviously you wouldn't be able to write it this year. It would be a interesting way to recap the shit show that this year has been. My main ideas being the weight gain she experiences through the covid-19 pandemic and possibly her being inspired to become a nurse.

Regardless if this is a one off or not, keep up the good work.

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16 minutes ago, Tastic1 said:

A sequel in Blubell's 2020 would be interesting , obviously you wouldn't be able to write it this year. It would be a interesting way to recap the shit show that this year has been. My main ideas being the weight gain she experiences through the covid-19 pandemic and possibly her being inspired to become a nurse.

Regardless if this is a one off or not, keep up the good work.

I love the idea of her volunteering to help in some capacity. Given her old job, maybe back to support in a care home. And I think it's the best platform to discuss covid in a wg story that doesn't feel trite or disrespectful. Good idea 👍

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9 minutes ago, swahilimonkfish said:

I love the idea of her volunteering to help in some capacity. Given her old job, maybe back to support in a care home. And I think it's the best platform to discuss covid in a wg story that doesn't feel trite or disrespectful. Good idea 👍

Sweet man. I am looking forward to what you write next. 

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January 2020***

 

 

Light scattered on her dark, knotty hair as she lay head down on her own bed. Messy and frazzled, and up in some haphazard bun. It suited her, in as much as it was exactly how Bluebell felt. It was exactly who Bluebell was. According to Bluebell.

And while she nuzzled the pillow her face had collapsed on, Bluebell’s eyes hung weary once more. Sure, the wine and sherry that they had been drinking were helping with yesterday’s hangover, which she’d truthfully only self-inflicted to get over the one from the day before, but, underneath her new, thick-framed glasses, her eyes still ached with exhaustion. Why had she gone to Emporium last night? They didn’t even have their special offer on, which meant the drinks burnt a whole deep into her pocket. But Bluebell wanted to go out, and so she went out.

With hair frothed like a shampoo commercial, Bluebell heaved herself up and looked at herself in the mirror, just like she had done a year before. Her heavy eyes scanned the rest of her reflection with wry amusement. She didn’t care about her hair, dark and uninspired. It wasn’t who she was. Dark and dour, and completely unkempt. She gave herself her best cutesy smile and a girlish pirouette. But it wasn’t a look that suited her and pirouetting was no longer her forte. So no need to grab her phone and selfie the results, before Snapchatting it to anyone. Tonight was not that kind of night.

 

Omg babe! U look so hot!

 

That was what she whispered to herself, under her breath. It was a facetious comment. Entirely unearnest, and this tickled Bluebell’s heart warm.

She didn’t feel hot. Her normal crop top and dungarees that had made up the majority of her clothing were long for the bin. Instead, trickling down her ivory skin like rain down a window was her high-waisted jeans and a crop top, something she hadn’t worn in a while. But she’d been feeling brave of late. She felt that spark again, that spark of rebellion and courage, and her reflection only sparked it further.

The crop top, draped over her pronounced breasts like they were coathangers, celebrated every inch of the 5ft5 girl. And boy were there many inches on that 5ft5 girl. It concealed her collarbones and flattered her pronounced bust. It then ended at her waist, revealing skin where the 220lb girl was least slender. It was mitigated by her jeans, pincering her flesh like the tie at the end of sausagemeat, and gripped the rest of her tightly down her thighs so that her trunk-like legs could thunder their way like cement blocks to the floor. And, best of all, her arms were left uncovered, so she could bear her pride and joy, the redly inked rose on the inside of her forearm in all of her ornate glory. Bluebell wore it with pride, the thick black and red lines of her identity needled into her arm. She always did wear her heart on her sleeve.

And the mirror gave her the chance to reflect on where how far she had come, and where she had come from. Whether it was for the better or the worse, felt subjective and ultimately pointless. It just was, and not a lot else really mattered. She was who she was who she was who she was. And it didn’t feel to bad. Despite the heartache and despite Labour doing terribly, lumbering Britain with a cruel megalomaniac for five years. Despite the change and the tears. She had hope. She still had hope. Friends, family, work, hobbies, music, politics, voluntary work, ambitions, art, an appetite.

 

Yeah, 2020 wouldn’t be so bad.

Like, what's the worst that could happen?

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On 4/23/2020 at 6:09 AM, swahilimonkfish said:

I love the idea of her volunteering to help in some capacity. Given her old job, maybe back to support in a care home. And I think it's the best platform to discuss covid in a wg story that doesn't feel trite or disrespectful. Good idea 👍

That’s kind of fun—the way that you’ve set this story up, this character could be read well into the future 🥰

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February 2020****

 

 

 

“I get she’s a good communicator, I just don’t know what policies she stands for”

“Towns. She stands for towns”

“Towns isn’t a policy!” Bluebell ranted to her new colleague, Jordan. Jordan, for their part, knew it was best to not discuss politics any further when Bluebell got frustrated. They had come to really like Bluebell ever since she started at the tattoo parlour, but she was politically very headstrong and not quite mastered the fine art of agree to disagree. So Jordan side-stepped the issue by changing the subject subtly.

“But she’s good-looking, isn’t she? That Lisa Nandy? Or is she not your type?” Jordan asked, as they finished up their lunchbreak and headed back onto the shop floor. It was well-light in there, and the walls were ornate with pictures of flowing flower stalks reaching flower head crescendos.

“She’s cute. I guess. Looks a bit frumpy sometimes”

“Wow!”

“No, I’m not saying she’s big or anything. She’s really cute and thin. I just don’t think she dresses well”

“Wow! That’s all I’m saying. Just wow” they replied, with an open palm to express shock and disapproval.

“It’s not sizeist of me to say that. It’s a sartorial comment, not a size comment!” Bluebell was smiling now, realising she was being wound up.

“Never said it was sizeist. That must be just your guilty conscience making that leap” Jordan jibed.

“The fact that you think it’s sizeist… is sizeist. Against me. You’re just saying that because I’m fat. Oh, and can I take a fag break?” Bluebell asked cheekily, after a quick glance at the waiting customers.

“You just had a lunch break? And besides, you’re not fat”

“Yeah, a lunch break. I spent it eating. Because I’m fat”

“Please Bluebell, stop saying you’re fat. You’re gorgeous” Jordan pleaded.

“I know I’m gorgeous. I’m also fat. Fat girls can be gorgeous. And that is what size-acceptance is really about. If you weren’t so sizeist, you’d know that!” Bluebell triumphantly declared, before sticking her tongue out playfully.

“Okay, fine. You win that round. But no cigarette break. Or, at least, you have to serve a customer first” they bartered with Bluebell.

“Please?”

“No Bluebell, now go and serve the customer”

“It’s just… that girl in the waiting room next to the brunette. That’s Bosh”

 

 

*-*-*-*-*-*

 

 

“Oh my god! So you’re the Bosh! I’ve heard so much about you. Including that you’re hot, which you so are by the way. Love the polo shirt. And is this your new girlfriend? Eh. She’s alright I guess too. Anyway… hi! I’m Jordan. Pronouns are they and them. Bluebell’s told me all about you” Jordan gushed, hand out for a handshake to the girl waiting.

“Hi, I’m Louise. Pronouns are fuck and you. How do you know Blue? You’re not her partner are you, cos she can do a lot better. I mean, I like your boots. But the face is a bit...” Bosh sneered.

“Not my partner, my colleague. Hey Bosh, long time no see” Bluebell walked up with a bit of sideways shuffle to the pair, deciding to face the music.

“Oh. Umm… hi Blue. It’s me, Louise… Bosh… I dunno, whatever you wanna call me. And yeah, this is my new girlfriend. Lily” Bosh stammered, introducing her girlfriend to her ex. “And Lily, this is that ex I told you about. This is Bluebell”

“The one that got really fat really quickly?” Lily asked, with innocence in her eyes. Bosh’s eyes, however, winced into closure as that detail got revealed.

“Oh, relax Bosh. It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge. And yeah, I’m the one that got fat. This time 14 months ago I was… about 112lbs. Now I’m more than double that. But it’s fine. More fat just means thicker skin” Bluebell tried to smile, but her hands were shaking.

“Double? Shit Blue! I mean, I’m not judging or anything. And I’m glad that you’re happy. You are happy right? Cos, I mean...”

“Yeah, I’m happy. I’m 232lbs and between all the eating that took me to this ‘really fat really quickly’, I’ve still found time to be happy. But thanks for offering to leave your girlfriend for me, out of guilt” Blue snarked a little back. She looked every inch that size too, under her dark hair and thick-rimmed glasses was a round face with a round body beneath it. And she felt it too, opposite Bosh and her new girlfriend. Bosh looked smart, as she tended to these days. Her jeans sucked in at the waist and hung firm on her legs. Her polo shirt revealed a lean physique with a little strength to it. And next to her was this Lily girl. The new girlfriend. Looked like the kinda girl who could confuse Austria with Australia, but had doe-eyes and another infuriatingly well-tended body.

“Did you?” Lily asked innocently.

“No. I didn’t” Bosh protested.

“Wait… are you only going out with her because her name’s also a flower” Jordan mused with epiphanic concentration. Bluebell took a while to catch up with that thought, but it was true. She’d replaced Bluebell with a Lily.

“Are you?” Lily asked again, her concern rising.

“No! Look, I just came because Lily… my wonderful girlfriend who I love very much thank you, wanted to get some ink and I didn’t know Bluebell worked here. I thought she worked at like an old people’s home? Since when could you draw? I thought I was the arty one?” Bosh suddenly scrunched her face up in realisation.

“Yeah. You did” Bluebell stated coldly, staring her ex down. This was followed by a resigned closing of the eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. I was just… look, Jordan, could you do this one solo… I need to have a chat with Bosh. In private”

 

Lily got up and walked across with Jordan to pick out a design while Bosh and Bluebell wandered out back. It was a scratty looking courtyard that doubled up as a loading bay for the supermarket next door. No sooner had Bluebell got there, was there a lit cigarette in her mouth and an anxious hand running through her dark hair.

“Oh, you still do that?” Bosh said, before wincing at how snarky it sounded.

“Yeah. I keep meaning to cut down but… but then I crave a smoke. And I’m discovering that will power might not be one of my strengths” Bluebell joked, and suddenly the mood felt a bit lighter. She started picking at a muffin between drags, offering one to Bosh who politely declined. “You know, I thought we were passed all this tension stuff. After that time I thought you were an Amazon driver and you thought I was Bluebell’s girlfriend”.

“Fuck, I remember that! That was embarrassing. And yeah, we are passed that. it was just unexpected. This is probably the last place I expected you. Apart from maybe a salad bar. Plus, Jordan’s a bit much”

“Yeah, but they’re really fun. Anyway, so this is me. A tattooist apprentice, a political activist. I applied to be in the audience for Question Time one time. Didn’t get to go but… y’know. It’s nice to have interests. I help out at the food banks. And I’ve started to waddle when I walk” Bluebell said, puffing away as she listed all of her achievements.

“You… don’t mind? The weight thing? Cos that’s really badass if you don’t”

“I dunno. Sometimes. I mean, I do have mirrors. And I do miss the way I used to look. And I do know about all the health stuff. And if I felt I had it in me to actually diet, I probably would. But I don’t, and it’s nice to be able to make size-positive comments and not feel like a hypocrite. And I do feel kinda powerful. So, I guess… mixed feelings?” Bluebell explained.

“Yeah. Mixed feelings. You get them too, do you? I swear, I miss the days when feelings weren’t mixed all the time” Bosh said with reflection.

“Anyway, less about me, what are you up to? Snagged a pretty one in Tulip… no, Rose was it… no… I’ll get this...”

“Fuck off!” Bosh laughed. “You know I hadn’t even realised the name thing until you mentioned it. I mean, is Lily an actual flower? Fuck, I guess it is. Maybe I have a type. But she’s great. I met her at work, which feels really grown up. We did the whole ‘date’ thing, with a meal and both of us offering to pay and so on. And she’s cute. And really nice and pleasant and...”

“You don’t like her, do you?”
“Arrggh! It’s not that I don’t like her, it’s just… she’s too… acquiescent?”

“Bosh? Have you swallowed a dictionary since we split?”

“Thesaurus… and no, I’m just saying, like, she should have blown her gasket back then. She shouldn’t be letting me go out and chat with my ex. She’s too trusting, too naive… I need...”

“Oh, don’t say it Bosh...”

“I need you. I miss you Blue. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m… I tried to move on. I have moved on. But I haven’t moved on too. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. Like, fuck… just pretend I didn’t say anything” Bosh put her hands in the air in frustration.

“I miss you too Bosh. And it’s different for me because… well, I haven’t been with anyone since we… broke up. Unless you count my ongoing love affair with Colonel Sanders”

“Ha! You and your love of chicken!”

“My second favourite Sanders after Bernie. But we’re in different places now. And I want to look forward. And yeah, I still love chicken. Honestly, I look back and I’m amazed it took me so long to get fat.”

“Right? I was thinking that too?”

“Were you?”

“Yeah! Bluebell, you were born to be a big girl. Honestly, whoever ends up with you is one lucky fucker. And if you ever… well, you know where I live.” Bosh said, getting up.

“I thought you didn’t like fat girls?”

“I don’t. I like you Bluebell”

Bluebell winced as her ex said it, words that she wanted and didn’t want to hear so much.

“Don’t… go. Just yet. I mean, they’ll be ages and… I’m gonna have another smoke and another muffin. Keep me company. For a bit. And you sure you don’t want a muffin? There really good” Bluebell offered Bosh the muffin container. And Bosh acquiesced.

“I shouldn’t. I’ve completely removed refined sugars from my diet. Oh fine, I’ll have one. And stay a bit. For you”

And the two girls sat together, discussing old times and eating muffins.

“So, you hear about that virus thing going about… apparently Italy have got it bad now too” Bluebell said, chewing chirpily.

“Oh, it’ll all blow over. Things like that always do. Something about nothing, I reckon” Bosh smiled, chewing chirpily herself.

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March 2020***

 

 

Bluebell sat on the kitchen work-surface with her cheeks puffed out and her legs swinging aimlessly through the air. Her poor, hunched posture squishing her soft stomach out even further than usual.

“Ooookay, how about now?” her mum said, walking back over to her with a makeshift mask made out of old t-shirts that Bluebell couldn’t fit into any more. She put it over Bluebell’s mouth to check that it fit this time, and could see from the way that Bluebell’s chubby cheeks bunched up around her eyes that she was smiling underneath.

“Thanks mum, this is great” Bluebell said, using her phone to check how she looked in its camera. The t-shirt itself was an old Little Mix one that Bluebell wouldn’t have worn these days even if it fitted her properly. But neatly manufactured and modified by her mum, it didn’t look so cringe.

“Hey, I want to keep my only daughter safe” her mum replied.

“I know. It’s Bojo’s fault. I can’t believe they haven’t locked down yet, after what’s happened to Italy and now Spain. It’ll be us next, I bet you. And there’s no PPE in the hospitals, let alone for people like little old me in the care homes. Social care needs nationalis...” Bluebell was off again with one of her rants when her mum interrupted.

“Just focus on being safe. And stop making everything about politics. I’d like to spend some time with Bluebell my daughter, not Bluebell the politics nerd” her mum gently and kindly chastised. Bluebell smiled back in acknowledgement.

“Fine. Sorry. It’s just… I’m nervous about going back. I haven’t worked there in a few months and… I’ve not exactly shrunk in the meantime. It’s just, I figured it was the right thing to do” Bluebell confessed.

“Oh, it is the right thing to do. And don’t worry about what they think of your weight. The important thing is you don’t catch it” Her mum smiled proudly at her daughter, rising to the occasion and going back to her old job just to support. The virus meant that they were short-staffed, with staff self-isolating every time they had a cough meaning there were a lot of regulars not there. She knew the job, she knew the people and she cared. So she answered the call of duty while still qualifying for furlough at the tattooists.

“I won’t catch it. Don’t worry. I don’t want to spread it to all them old dears. There the ones I worry for” Bluebell reassured her mum. For the first time in her life, Bluebell felt in a position where she could be the one reassuring her mum and not vice-versa.

“Oh, I don’t care about them. I care about you” her mum reiterated, booping her on the nose like she used to when she was a kid.

“You just don’t want me to bring it back here. Dad’ll probably get it and blame it on 5G again. We really need to keep him away from Facebook. They’re radicalising him into a right numpty” Bluebell giggled. She was pretty sure her dad was only taking the piss and pretending he believed all that conspiratorial stuff. Pretty sure.

“Ohhh no, a mother always cares about their child the most. One day, you’ll understand” her mum pressed on.

“Yeah, not for a while though, no motherhood on the horizon for me. And the news says it’s only the elderly and those with underlying conditions that should be worried, I’m young and healthy. You don’t have to worry” Bluebell again reassured her mum, this time with her hand on her shoulder.

“Yes, I know you’re young. But it’s the other bit I’m worried about” her mum looked sadly at her daughter’s body.

“What other bit? The healthy bit? What do you mean?” Bluebell seemed confused before realising what her mum was alluding to. “Hang about, are you saying… you think I’m so fat that I should be considered a ‘vulnerable person’?”

“Well… I mean...”

“Fuck off!”

“Bluebell! Less of that tone with your mother!”

“Sorry. But, like, screw you for saying that. I’m a bit chunky yeah. But I’m not Rona fodder because I’m partial to a bacon butty all of a sudden. I’m still your Bluebell” Bluebell protested, her cheeks reddening and warming as she felt her temper flare up.

“The NHS advice mentions being overweight and...”

“I’m not that overweight” Bluebell protested a little more defensively.

“Well, how much do you weigh then” her mum asked, getting her phone out and checking googling for a BMI calculator site to check.

Bluebell stayed silent.

“Well?”

251” Bluebell mumbled under her breath.

“Sorry darling, I didn’t catch that”

“I said… 251lbs” Bluebell said with an eyeroll.

“And what’s that in stone, sorry” her mum continued, frowning at the website.

“Well, 14lbs in a stone so about 18 stone...”

Her mum dropped her phone in shock.

“Mum?”

“Sorry, I...” she stammered, picking her phone up. The screen was all smashed, making it hard to read.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot” Bluebell’s eyes began to water, twitching her head to the side as she did.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sorry I dropped my phone. I wasn’t shocked it was just… I wasn’t quite what I was expecting. Are you sure you got your maths right Bloob?” her mum asked with shaky hands. Bluebell just nodded, while sniffling. “Oh, I… I mean, that actually is quite a bit more than I thought but… let’s see what the website says”.

Her mum tried to type in the numbers but the cracked screen made it difficult.

“Here mum, I’ll do it on mine. I’m sorry about your phone” Bluebell said with a croaky voice.

“Oh, don’t apologise, it’s nothing. I was due an upgrade anyway” her mum lied.

“It says here that if I’m… let’s put in 5ft5 and I weigh… that number… my BMI is...” and then Bluebell slammed her phone down onto the side and started crying all over again. Her mum, with unsteady hands, picked up the phone and read what it said.

41.77 Morbidly Obese.

“I didn’t realise I was this bad” Bluebell mumbled. “I mean, I know I’ve put on some weight...”

And Bluebell’s verbalised thoughts were interrupted by a hug. Her mum began crying.

“Look, Bloob. I will never judge. I only worry about your health” her mum said, bracing her tightly.

“I know mum. I just didn’t realise I was this far gone. I just thought… oh god, I drink and smoke way too much too. Do you think I should not go? Am I vulnerable?” Bluebell said, hugging her mum back just as tightly, her words muffled by the fabric of her mother’s cardigan.

“No. You’re Bluebell and this is who you are. You are selfless and kind. If you didn’t help, you wouldn’t be my Bluebell, the girl I am so proud of. But shall we think about you going on a diet maybe? Might help?” her mum suggested, pulling away to look at her daughter in her eyes. But Bluebell didn't even get a chance to answer.

“What’s goin’ on in ‘ere then? My two favourite girls having a moment? And what’s happened to your phone screen love?” Bluebell’s dad asked, walking into the room and missing the conversation that had been had.

“Oh, just dropped it. Clumsy hands” her mum said, looking after her daughter’s feelings.

“You know why that is, don’t you? It’s them 5G waves messing with your brain signals. This whole coronavirus is just misdirection, it’s the 5G you have to watch out for” her dad said, with a big smile.

“Oh, please tell me your joking dad!”

“Not summat to joke about. You know, your uncle Jerry shared this intercepted, private government communication with me on Facebook...” and then his face broke and he started laughing. “I nearly had you two for a sec, didn’t I? Oh, you know what, I am funny at times. I do make me laugh.”

And Bluebell and her mother both laughed two, though as much out of relief as anything.

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This is such great stuff. Authentic characters and well-developed vignettes are loaded with interest. 
 

My only thought is how the Bluebell character (or parents) would be so unaware of her binge eating. To gain that much weight that fast, people generally are consuming inhuman amounts of food. Just trying to understand what’s happening, if she’s eating loads in private and hiding the evidence, or somewhat unaware of her behavior. Is her eating subconsciously keeping her from dating and it being ‘discovered’?

As you can tell, I love the realness of this story! ❤️

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1 hour ago, dania201 said:

This is such great stuff. Authentic characters and well-developed vignettes are loaded with interest. 
 

My only thought is how the Bluebell character (or parents) would be so unaware of her binge eating. To gain that much weight that fast, people generally are consuming inhuman amounts of food. Just trying to understand what’s happening, if she’s eating loads in private and hiding the evidence, or somewhat unaware of her behavior. Is her eating subconsciously keeping her from dating and it being ‘discovered’?

As you can tell, I love the realness of this story! ❤️

Thanks so much. I love how invested you are, it's really reassuring.

As for the weight gain, I split the arc in my head into a series of incremental changes. At first, it was just the indulgent lifestyle she'd always had and grown up with, supplemented by drinking. That was the thin stage. Then she and everyone realised, but she lashed out to spite everyone and they were aware (though she hid it as best she could). That was the transition stage. Then her birthday came and they all sort of unofficially came to accept her eating habits as part of who she was. That was the fat stage and they just normalised it. And this? This was supposed to be the epiphany about how they had normalised it, and how abnormal this new normal was. I love weight gain stories that explore these shifting normalities, where people's eating habits are crazy, but there's nobody impartial around to point it out. 

I love your idea of it subconsciously affecting her dating life. I think her lack of dating is more like it's tied to her self confidence, her perception of self, and her feelings about Bosh. But also, when I ended the story originally, I really wanted to write a story that didn't end with the character's self realisation being tied up with being in a relationship. But now I've restarted it, I guess I need to explore new ideas. 

Thank you so much for the kind words and support though

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1 hour ago, swahilimonkfish said:

Thanks so much. I love how invested you are, it's really reassuring.

As for the weight gain, I split the arc in my head into a series of incremental changes. At first, it was just the indulgent lifestyle she'd always had and grown up with, supplemented by drinking. That was the thin stage. Then she and everyone realised, but she lashed out to spite everyone and they were aware (though she hid it as best she could). That was the transition stage. Then her birthday came and they all sort of unofficially came to accept her eating habits as part of who she was. That was the fat stage and they just normalised it. And this? This was supposed to be the epiphany about how they had normalised it, and how abnormal this new normal was. I love weight gain stories that explore these shifting normalities, where people's eating habits are crazy, but there's nobody impartial around to point it out. 

I love your idea of it subconsciously affecting her dating life. I think her lack of dating is more like it's tied to her self confidence, her perception of self, and her feelings about Bosh. But also, when I ended the story originally, I really wanted to write a story that didn't end with the character's self realisation being tied up with being in a relationship. But now I've restarted it, I guess I need to explore new ideas. 

Thank you so much for the kind words and support though

No problem! I hoped the feedback would be encouraging and honest!

The slow escalation bit makes sense. I only brought up the eating bit because I experienced firsthand how much food you have to be eating to gain that much that fast. If you’re big and still piling on weight fast, your eating habits are likely to a point that it would shock or disgust anyone else, and that just makes you want to hide it all to save you from “that” conversation, if you know what I mean. 
 

This is one of the more relatable stories I’ve seen, which is so hard to capture in writing. 

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20 minutes ago, dania201 said:

No problem! I hoped the feedback would be encouraging and honest!

The slow escalation bit makes sense. I only brought up the eating bit because I experienced firsthand how much food you have to be eating to gain that much that fast. If you’re big and still piling on weight fast, your eating habits are likely to a point that it would shock or disgust anyone else, and that just makes you want to hide it all to save you from “that” conversation, if you know what I mean. 
 

This is one of the more relatable stories I’ve seen, which is so hard to capture in writing. 

Yeah, you make a really good point about the hiding her eating from people due to how extreme it is. I wish I'd confronted it before the story reached lock down. I could probably find a way to explore it though now her mum has mooted dieting once more. Not in April, but maybe May? But thanks for the tip. I was hoping for relatable, and I think you're advice might help with that

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April 2020*** part 1

 

 

First were the footsteps. Heavily, crashing things pummelling downwards as she headed upwards. Then came the slam of the door, threatening its hinges as a bile-fuelled push crashed it against its frame. Finally came the uncomfortable creak of her bed, the wooden slats wincing as she threw herself on it like she used to before she doubled in weight. Downstairs, listening to all of this, Bluebell’s mum just put her head in her hands.

“Denise, what happened?” Martin said, crossing his arms and seeing his wife puff her cheeks out in frustration.

“Just don’t go there. You don’t wanna know” she said, bitterly. Each word said only less poisonous than the ones she didn’t say. Her hand pointed itself at him, an open-palmed stop as she looked away in disgust.

“Now, now, it can’t be that bad. If it’s about the mess in the dining room, I’ll clear it up just once I’ve finished painting this P51D Mini Mustang” he offered.

“No, it’s not about your toy planes Martin...”

Model planes Denise. Toy planes are for children. Model planes are for historical enthusiasts” he argued pedantically.

“Whatever. No, it’s about Blue. She’s been lying to me and keeping secrets from me. You know I can’t stand liars Martin. It’s the one thing...” she wagged her finger at him, but the words felt like she was trying to convince herself.

“Blue? Lie? That’s not like her...”

“Isn’t it? I dunno. Sometimes I wonder if it is. You know how she’s been trying to diet?” Denise explained.

“Yeah, you women and your diets” Martin replied dismissively.

“Oh, sod off Martin. Do I look like I’m in the mood for your sarcy comments? She decided she needed to go on a diet and I decided I’d help her. Something we could do together. You know, mother and daughter. Like when we used to do things together. Before she went all… like she is. I thought, y’know, since we’re stuck together during this quarantine… well, we thought we’d do one of them calorie journals. Just to track it. Not even cut back, just get an idea of how much she consumes, so we can work out how many calories she needs to cut out, to lose weight. A real plan, the two of us. And we did it for a whole week of her just eating normally. And it was about 3000-3300 calories, which is a lot for a woman but not as bad as I worried. You know, for her to pile it on like she has...”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say it like that”

“Well, it’s true. She has” she protested.

“Maybe, but… try ‘she’s accumulated some excess matter’ instead. I don’t know. Just, your phrasing there, it goes right through me” Martin said, massaging the temple of his forehead.

“So I was worried. That was why I went online, on the NHS website...”

“Was that really necessary? It all seems like a bit much. All girls gain weight at her age...”

“Martin, grow a spine, would you? She’s officially morbidly obese”

“No she’s not. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re exaggerating”

“She was there, last month. Remember when I broke my phone. It was then. So could you kindly stop interrupting me to tell me that the facts that I’m telling you aren’t true. Okay?” Denise snapped.

“Sorry, go ahead” he said into himself, feeling scolded and a little embarrassed.

“It said she needed to eat 1800-2400 to lose weight. At first, I thought that was great, and we agreed to make a diet pact, and we’d both eat 1800 calories together. Together. Even though that’s probably more than I eat normally, but I wanted to be supportive. Like I say, a real mother/daughter thing” she continued.

“That’s your idea of a mother/daughter thing? Not eating?” Martin deadpanned.

“Oh, like you’d know. You’re the one who gave her all these bad habits. You can’t talk to her without giving her something bad for her. But that’s not the point. The point is that then I thought, ‘how is she putting on so much weight?’. If she can lose weight by eating 2400, how can she be gaining so much weight so fast when she’s not eating that much more. So I began worrying, as I do, and started googling about thyroids and body chemical things… imbalances or whatever. And I was worried that I would have to take her to the doctor. And with this lockdown, I thought, should we wait until after? I mean, all the adverts say you shouldn’t put major stuff on hold but...”

“Oh Denise, I’m sure she doesn’t have a thyroid problem. She’s probably just snacking a bit maybe or...” Martin tried to console her and got a death glare.

“That is exactly what is happening. Not a thyroid problem. A snacking problem. I checked the outdoor bin… god knows why I did. I didn’t think she’d actually… well, she’s been sneakily hiding all her wrappers in the outdoor bin. Not just the one in the kitchen or whatever. Straight into the outdoor one. At night. So as not to get caught. Deliberately” Denise began pacing again with annoyance.

“Oh. Is that all?”

“What do you mean, is that all? She lied? She looks me in the eyes and says 3000 or so calories and I swear to god it is double that. You should see the rubbish. It’s quantities that Scooby Doo and Shaggy would baulk at. How? Why? Is she doing this to spite me? We made a pact. Does she just not care. I mean, what did we do wrong Martin, to bring her up in that way? She used to be such a good girl. Not this” Denise rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“No. Hang about. Don’t talk about our Bluebell like that. I mean it Denise. I get that you’re angry but I’m not having it. Not in this household. That’s our Bluebell and… look, she spends 8 hours a day working at care homes because she cares. When most wouldn’t, she does. I’m proud of her. I’m proud of the girl she’s grown into” Martin raised his voice in a way he rarely did.

“Oh, she’s grown all right...”

“Just… let me talk to her. It’s a tough age for the girl and she’s been through a lot recently and now all this is happening… just let me talk to her. Okay? This house is too small for you two to be avoiding each other” Martin reasoned.

“She’s probably up there stuffing her face behind our back now” Denise sniped, still palpably bitter.

“Oh come on Denise, she isn’t. She’s not. She wouldn’t. Look, just… leave my planes alone for a bit, let me fix things over for you with Bluebell and I’ll sort them out when I come back down”

“Why would I touch your toy planes Martin? What’s this even got to do with them?”

Model planes, not toy planes. And, just don’t touch them. And if I’m not back downstairs in 15, call for a search party” he smiled, grabbed something from the kitchen and began to climb the stairs.

“That’s not funny and… what are you taking up the stairs Martin?” Denise shouted before he got halfway up.

“This? It’s some rocky road. It’s her favourite and I thought...”

“For fuck’s sake Martin, did you even listen to a word I just said? I say she’s eating behind our back and you reward her with… god, you’re making me swear… fucking rocky fucking road. I swear Martin, you are...” Denise seethed, her cheeks flushing with frustration.

“Trust me. Okay? You did your bad cop routine, she needs some good cop. I get my Bluebell. I understand her. And this… this will help. It’s a peace offering, it’s her favourite, and she doesn’t need judgement, she needs an ear. Do you trust me?” Martin said, looking at his wife sternly.

“Fine. Do your good cop thing. But know this Martin… you are an enabler for that girl. All you do is enable her” Denise said, but without malice.

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Just want to thank Dania201 for advice and guidance on this story and, in particular, this chapter. It's a bit longer than I would have liked, but it covers ground with much more insight than I could have mustered on my own - so thank you

 

April 2020*** Part 2/2

 

 

 

“Can I come in Bloob?” Martin said, with a gentle rap on the door.

“No” came the muffled, teary reply from inside.

“I’ve got rocky road...” Martin added, in an almost sing-song voice.

He put his ear to the door and heard no second objection. He took that as an invitation to come in.

He pulled the door open and saw his little girl, tucked under her duvet with streaky mascara down her cheeks and brown stains around her mouth.

“Hey, Bloob” he said softly.

She still said nothing, just glared at the window across her room with a crumpled face.

“Look, I’ll just put this here. Ooo, are those KitKats? God, I haven’t had a KitKat in ages. Didn’t know they still made them” he said, noting the half-eaten packet of them by her bed, and their corresponding emptied wrappers scattered over the floor like calorific confetti.

“Oh, lay off it dad. You expect me to believe that. And mum’s probably downstairs saying ‘I told you so’, isn’t she? I bet she said I’d be up here stuffing my fat… no, sorry, morbidly obese face” Bluebell sulked, still not making eye contact with her father.

“Oh, she said nothing of the sort. Don’t worry. And do away with all that KitKat rubbish and treat yourself to a real snack. Remember rocky road? You used to love this stuff” Martin said, with a big grin on his face, waggling the container like he was trying to entice a puppy.

“When I was 11, maybe” Bluebell grouched grumpily. Martin’s face wavered in its optimism, flickering at the corner of his lips. “But, better than KitKats I suppose”.

Bluebell turned around and looked at her dad directly in the eyes. There was a tired apathy behind them, like they had just run out of juice. Like she just didn’t have the energy to be angry any more.

She didn’t say anything, as she opened the packet and began eating. Neither of them said anything. They just sat next to each other, with Martin sat at the end of her bed, and stewed in the quiet, with Bluebell’s chewing and crunkling of the plastic container being the only noises made. Eventually, Martin moved, leaning down towards the floor and picking up a KitKat. A slight smile slipped across Bluebell’s face as he did it.

“Shhh, don’t tell your mother” he said, smiling back as he opened them. He looked at them with a look of surprise. “Huh, they’re smaller than I remember.”

“You really didn’t know that they still made KitKats, dad?” Bluebell finally said.

“Honestly? Yeah, I did. Dunno why I said it, frankly. Not had one in so long though. Always remember them being a big deal, but these are just puny little things” Martin snickered to himself, holding up a waifish wafer as if to inspect its petty size. Bluebell went to open her mouth with a cheap ‘most chocolate bars feel small these days to me, too’ joke about her weight, but thought better of it, in her current mood and in the current climate. God, how long had she been making such jokes? How much had she normalised it? Instead, they just continued eating in silence.

“Hey… do you have any smokes?” Martin asked.

“Sure, ashtray’s on the windowsill” she pointed, and he grabbed it for both of them.

“So then Blue, why are you so… blue?” Martin smiled at his own joke.

“I mean, I know mum’s already told you so what’s the point?” Bluebell grumped with a handful of side-eye.

“She may have mentioned something about it all being to do with some diet you agreed to do with her?” Martin exhaled calmly on his cigarette.

“Did she now? We both agreed to it, did we? Sounds about right” Bluebell muttered.

“So I take it that you didn’t?”

“No I fuc… No I didn’t. She suggested it and it should have pissed me off. Treating me like I’m defective, like there’s something wrong with me...”
“Oh, I’m sure she didn’t mean that Bloob...” Martin interrupted, defending his wife.

“If she doesn’t think I’m broken, then why’s she trying to fix me? You know, I try. I really try to be a good person, positive person. Someone who makes a positive difference in the world. Who loves themselves and others. But treating me like that, it just… it knocks my confidence, y’know. Like, aren’t your parents supposed to love you unconditionally? So what does it say about me that I’m so fat that I breach even that?” Bluebell started her speech with a roar to her voice, but ended it with a tremulous quiver.

“Hey, that’s not true. And you know that’s not true” Martin countered, a little curtly.

“Do I?”

“Yes. Yes you do. You know she loves you, and when she does stuff that annoys you, it’s not because she doesn’t care… it’s because she does” Martin explained, and Bluebell twitched at the thought of it. “Now tell me, why does your mum think you were involved in some diet pact when you say that you weren’t?”

“Because… when she asked… I guess I didn’t say yes but I didn’t say no either. And she took that as a yes. Or whatever. And what was I supposed to do? I felt trapped into doing it. ‘Sorry, mum, for the confusing messages but I actually want to continue charting a path beyond morbid obesity’” Bluebell confessed, mocking herself with inflection on the last line.

“But… didn’t you… don’t you want to diet?” Martin asked, curiously.

“You too? Really?” Bluebell raged.

“No. I… I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought that you wanted to. It’s how your mother told it anyway. That you were trying to lose some weight and she wanted to help you. Because she, deep-down, just wanted you to be happy. So, do you want to lose weight?”

“No! God… yeah? Maybe? I dunno. I think so. Yeah, I do. No, I know I do. I do want to lose weight. I mean, is that shallow or superficial or whatever? Aren’t I supposed to be body positive enough to be okay with my build? Am I a hypocrite?” Bluebell wondered, discarding the now empty box of rocky road that she’d obliterated.

“You made light work of them. I told you that they were your favourite” Martin smiled victoriously. “Hey, you want the rest of your KitKats back?”

“Yeah, go on then. Shouldn’t but… I mean I need the calories like I need a whole in the head...”

“Trepanning?”

“What?”

“Trepanning. It’s that thing they used to in early medical times, when they drilled a hole in your head to let the bad spirits out and… this isn’t relevant, is it?” Martin just couldn’t help himself with his history buffery at times. Bluebell didn’t mind, she was back on the KitKats. “And to answer your question, yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, you are a hypocrite”

“Thanks for the pep talk dad” Bluebell said with a sneer and a healthy dollop of sarcasm.

“You hold yourself to a different – a higher – standard than others. You’re allowed to be body-positive and thin; you’re allowed to be health-conscious and fat; you’re allowed to be you Bluebell, as long as who you are is good and kind and thoughtful. And it is. And you are. Don’t decide what you want to do based on what others think but what you think” her dad explained, looking sympathetically at his daughter.

“Thanks dad. You always had the best advice. But… it’s easier said than done. I want to not give a fuck, sorry for swearing, about what other people think. But I can’t help it. I walk past someone, anyone, and I think ‘what if they remember what I used to look like?’. They’d look at me with disgust and horror, and wonder what on Earth I’ve done to myself. How could she let herself go like that. Or, what if they’ve never seen me before? Then the opposite happens and they just presume I’ve always been fat, just born a lost cause and a self-made one, and I want to shake those people and say ‘actually, it’s a really recent thing and just last year, I was thin and beautiful’” Bluebell said, blowing her nose on a tissue after she finished her diatribe.

“So?”

“So, I do want to lose weight. And… I tried. I did. I didn’t mean to hide the treats. It just spiralled. I lasted a week. Literally just one week! That was it. And then I was at work and I was tired and I thought, ‘who cares? nobody can see me, so it doesn’t count’. And then it happened again the next day, but nothing bad happened last time and it was only another one-off. And again and again. One-off after one-off, until the one-offs became the norm. I’d sneak the stuff home in my work handbag, and it would be some pathetic rebellion. And then, every time I’d get some alone time, I’d think about eating. Stuffing it in, sneakily, quickly, to avoid getting caught. It was so stupid. And it just got out of hand again. I began spending my day just thinking about the eating and the avoiding getting caught. If I put that much energy into dieting, I’d be Ariana Grande-sized by now...”

“I have no idea who that is”

“I know you don’t dad. But she’s basically Tinkerbell in bronzer. Anyway, it just happens. Mum is furious about how much I eat and honestly, she doesn’t know the half of it still. I use work’s bins mainly to get rid of the stuff. It’s a problem. I think I’m addicted to eating dad? Is that a thing? Cos I think I have it?” Bluebell started crying again.

“No. It’s not… I mean, maybe, but you’re not addicted to eating. You’re just...”

“Fat. I know. And more and more, that’s what people see when they look at me now. I know they do. And more and more, it’s affecting how I am. Even before the quarantine, I’d go out less, cos I just didn’t fancy the walk. The hassle of it. It just… and now I hoard chocolate like a diabetic squirrel. Like, the Mission Impossible levels of subterfuge because I can’t get enough Battenberg. It’s embarrassing. And now, I’m not only not lighter, I’m heavier. Another month, another half a stone. 259lbs. Cos that’s a sustainable rate(!)”

“To be fair, Battenberg is good” her dad consoled.

“Yeah, it is. But it’s the lying. I hate it. I hate it so much. And it scares me because I hate it so much and I do it still. Because I hate the thought of not eating more. I mean, how embarrassing is that. I must do, or I wouldn’t do it. I hate the lying, but not enough to stop. I don’t want to tell you because it’s embarrassing, but not enough to stop doing it. What the fuck is wrong with me dad? What kind of person is this deranged?” Bluebell heaved heavy tears into her duvet.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry love. Look, I get it. I get it” Martin hugged her tightly, patting her on the back like he used to when she was a kid.

“But that’s the thing. You don’t”

“Oh child. You have no idea. I completely get what you’re talking about. I was exactly the same at your age”

“N… no you weren’t. Y… were you?” Bluebell pulled back from him to frown with confusion.

“Maybe not exactly the same, but how you described it sounded really familiar. I was the same when I started smoking”

“So I am addicted to food? Is that what you’re saying?” Bluebell asked, defensively.

“No. What I am saying is… I used to lie too. All the time. To my parents. Oh god, now I love your grandma and grandpa. And they were really laid-back parents. They were. Never raised their voice. Never got angry. But, despite that, I would lie to them about my smoking. I mean, it was around the time that smoking was treated as unacceptable. My parents’ – your grandparents’ - generation was different. They smoked because it was the norm. But ours were the first to know better. And yet I did it anyway. Literally behind the bike sheds at school. It wasn’t a cliché back then, it was just ‘cool’” Martin explained.

“I didn’t know this. I didn’t know any of this” Bluebell said, perplexed.

“No, well I… I don’t brag about it. I’m ashamed of it to be honest, still. But yeah, I’d lie to my lovely parents, hide it from them. Do all that spy stuff you were talking about. Oh, I thought I was Billy-big-bollocks for my deceit, but I look back and just wince. It wasn’t fear. They never would rage. Well, it was fear, but a different kind. Fear of letting them down. Fear of disappointing them. Fear of that look in their eyes when they realise and life just deflates out of them like a punctured football. So I did all the stuff you talked about. But the daft thing was, they knew. Ha, yeah, they know all along. Of course they knew, the stuff stinks. It’s not like eating, smoke gets on your clothes, your breath. They know and they didn’t tell me they knew. You know why? I didn’t know why at the time, but now I’m a parent, I do”

“Why?”

“Fear. Fear of me feeling like I was letting them down. Fear of me feeling like I was disappointing them. Fear of having to be stern and condemnatory when all they want to do is hug you. Your grandma still hasn’t mentioned it. We just never talk about it, still to this day. And I don’t want us to be like that. Secrets. Afraid of each other. So… I’m sorry Bloob. I’m sorry that you felt you had to be like that around us. That’s something we should feel guilty about, not you. Promise me Bloob

, promise me that you’ll never feel like you have to keep secrets from us. Because it’s our job to ensure that you never do feel like that. Okay, pet?” Martin had a little tear in his eye too at this point.

“I promise dad. I promise” Bluebell sniffled into the shoulder of his shirt, where her face was tearfully buried.

“So, what do you want to do, Bluebell? What do you want to do?” her dad said, his face open and supporting.

“I want to lose weight”

“Are you sure? This is definitely what you want?”

“Yes. I want to lose weight” Bluebell said, with more resolve this time.

“Well, in that case, how about a different type of pact? Look, rather than have your salad-eating mum go calorie counting with you, that’s not what you need. You need somebody who can relate, somebody going through the same thing. So, Bloob, if you give up snacking… I’ll quit smoking” he said, hoping that the words would take.

“Y...you’d give up smoking? To help me?” Bluebell seemed shocked.

“It seems only fitting. Smoking is my equivalent of your snacking”

“Then what’s my smoking? Cos I can’t give up both at the same time, I’d go crazy”

“Hey, that’s fine. If I feel tempted, I’ll ask you to blow smoke towards me so I can just smell that lovely tobacco air. Plus you can have all my cigarettes” her dad reasoned. “And just stop snacking. Of course, if you do, it’s not a big deal. It would, if anything, be reassuring to me, as someone going through the same thing, to know that you can fall off and get back on again. No secrets, no lies and no snacking, and I’ll give up a habit I’ve had for nearly 35. Deal?” he stuck out a hand to shake.

“Deal” and Bluebell shook hands with him.

“And tell your mum I’m not an enabler” he said, with a smile.

“You are such an enabler” Bluebell said, lighting another cigarette as a preventative measure against eating the remainder of her KitKats. “All you do is enable me”.

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  • 3 weeks later...

May 2020***

 

 

“Hey, don’t judge me, I’m on a diet!” Bluebell said down the barrel of her laptop’s camera as she lay on her bed looking up at it.

“What diet? The nicotine diet? Smoke Yourself Skinny? That’s not a diet, Blue” Bosh smiled back via the Facebook chat that they had going on.

“It’s a thing! You smoke more when you would otherwise snack. Like, you know when you’re not really thinking about it and then you look up and all of a sudden, you’re halfway through a pack of doughnuts…?” Bluebell explained, stubbing her cigarette out on her precariously balanced ashtray.

“Not as well as you do...”

“Well, it’s like that. But instead of doughnuts, it’s cancer sticks. Which is an improvement, apparently” Bluebell giggled, pulling another cigarette out and lighting it.

“And… does it work? Have you been snacking less?”

Bluebell looked around, checking that her bedroom door was closed. Then she lowered and quietened her voice, as if she feared her room was bugged.

“No, not really”

Bosh burst into laughter at this confession, a snorting laugh that Bluebell hadn’t heard in a long time. It used to annoy her, Bosh’s snorting laugh. It didn’t any more, now it was gone.

“Oh Blue! How? I thought you swore to your parents that you would?”

“Promise not to judge?”

“No. No I do not. I do not promise not to judge. You are going to tell me and I am gonna judge you soooo much for it” Bosh felt the wideness of her smile stretch her mouth. It had been a long time since she had smiled so much.

“Fiiine. But you cannot tell a soul. If my parents find out, they will kill me. Literally. And if they do kill me, I’ll be forced to haunt you. And I’ll spend the rest of my ghostly days pushing books of your bookshelf or whatever it is ghosts do” Bluebell was smiling too, even if she was trying to be a bit more serious.

“Fine. I’ll not tell anyone”

“Look, my plan was to… Smoke Myself Skinny. Is that what you called it? Yeah, that. And my mum and dad have been so supportive and I’ve been eating loads more vegetables. Like, I had okra the other day. I’ve never even heard of okra. I thought okra was a colour?”

“Fucking hell Blue” Bosh giggled.

“It’s not. It’s a vegetable. And it tastes like licking out the arsehole of Satan, it’s horrible. But… I tried it. So that counts. But, after a week or so, I just started to let my standards slip...” Bluebell confessed sheepishly.

“You had standards?”

“Fuck you!” Bluebell laughed. “My mistake? I didn’t tell the people at work I was dieting. So when I started cheating on it, they didn’t nag me about it. So work became my safe place, and I started eating bits and pieces again and… look, I don’t know how it happened. I’d think to myself ‘well it’s okay to eat like that at work...’ and I’d eat more and more. You know, try to cram it in while I was there because I knew that I couldn’t eat at home. It was stupid but you start thinking in those terms. Get your timesworth. I started looking forward to work because I was looking forward to bingeing. And now, I’m back to sneaking stuff home and bingeing in my room on the sly again. And I can’t admit it to my dad, because I’m betraying everything he has said and done. I mean, he’s quit smoking for fuck sake. And I can’t even quite fucking Cadbury’s!”

Bluebell took a deep sigh after that, her mood completely turned.

“Well, look. If it’s any consolation, with you lying on your bed like that, I can see right down your top and it’s a flattering perspective Blue. The weight has gone to all of the right places” Bosh teased, trying to keep things light. Or, at least, lighter than Blue was.

“Yeah, it’s some consolation” Bluebell giggled.

“But seriously, you should tell him. He’ll understand. He’s probably smoking and afraid to tell you he’s not quit. So tell him”

“Thanks Bosh. You always did know how to cut through an issue”.

“So, changing subject… what did you think about that Dominic Cummings fucker? Up and down the country like a whore’s drawers” Bosh asked, conspiratorially.

“He’s an absolute… wait a minute. Since when did you care about politics?” Bluebell asked, cottoning on to what Bosh had just said.

“Well, it’s not really politics is it? And it’s not like there’s been much on the TV apart from Corona News 24. And… sometimes people change Blue. Not that you’d know” Bosh smirked back.

“Oh ha ha. I just never thought I’d hear you talk about anything current affairs based unless the person involved was hot” Bluebell jibed back.

“That doesn’t sound like me” Bosh joked. “Fine. It does sound like me. But I’ve changed a lot this past year too. I really have. You’d be impressed”.

“Would I?” Blue shuffled on her bed covers to get herself comfortable.

“Yeah, I’m sober. I know how to do the worm...”

“The worm?”

“Yeah watch” and Bosh stepped back from the camera and performed a rudimentary intepretation of the 90s dance move. “See? How do you like them apples?”

“I like them a lot. That was awesome”

“You probably noticed another change too...”

Bluebell paused, and squinted at the laptop monitor to know avail.

“No, sorry. Your hair’s a bit longer I guess...”

“Look, I’ll tell you but… you have to promise not to judge me” Bosh said, tentatively.

“No chance. I am so gonna judge you, after you judged me”

“Yeah, but that was joking. This is actually serious” Bosh asserted.

“Oh, and mine was joking was it? And yours is...”

“Seriously, Blue. Please”

Bluebell paused a second, gathering herself after the constant titter of laughter that talking with Bosh these days provided.

“Fine. I’m sorry, Bosh. What is it that you wanted to tell me? I promise not to judge” Bluebell said, offering a friendly smile.

Bosh paused, fidgeting as she sat and not looking at the screen for a bit.

“Well then… what is it?” Bluebell prodded.

“I’ve gained weight”

“What? Bosh? Gained weight? Oh my god, that is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day. You? You’ve actually gained weight. Oh, that is hilarious!” Bluebell hooted with laughter, rolling around on her bed as she did.

“Fuck off. Not a lot of weight. Less than you for sure” Bosh said, trying to keep things light again, but only to hide the fact that it hurt.

“I’ve been on a diet remember. I haven’t gained weight” Bluebell retorted with a tongue stuck out in riposte.

“Yeah, a shit diet. So you’re saying I’ve gained more weight than you this month?”

“Probably not. I’m still up another 6lbs. Which is actually quite good for me. I’m starting to flatten the curve, I think” Bluebell admitted. “I’m a slight thing of just 265lbs”.

Bluebell rested the laptop on her bed and stood back into the centre of her room, so Bosh could see everything that Bluebell had going for her. She could say her face in full. The longer, dark hair untreated by a hairdresser for several months now, drifting down along her spine. Her eyes behind round glasses, her chin melting into her neck and widening at her jaw. Below that, Bosh could see her entire body, concealed in nighttime pjs that were not purchased with flattery in mind. The second roll of her stomach swung underneath the lower hem of her top, and over the tassels of her bottoms. Her legs seemed to bulge out of her leg holes. Bosh’s eyes danced up and down her body.

“Like what you see?”

Bosh blushed.

“Well that’s actually cheered me up a bit. But only a bit. I’ve gained 11lbs since lockdown started. Well onto gaining the ‘Covid 19’. Can’t wait for all this to be over. Look Blue. Look. These used to be abs” Bosh pulled back from the camera and pulled up her shirt. Her midriff was still thin, but the sculpture of it had dissipated.

“Awww, I liked your abs as well” Bluebell whined, mockingly.

“Fuck you. Wait til I push my stomach out. Look” and Bosh pushed it out as far as she could. It stuck out slightly further, but little more than that. “I’m fat.”

“If that’s fat, then what am I?” Bluebell commented.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You know, I’ve kinda gotten used to you being chonky. It’s become part of your charm” Bosh argued.

“It really is, isn’t it? So, what does your girlfriend think about you blimping up? Whatever her name was, the pretty thing. Rose? Petunia? Tulip? Rhododendron?” Bluebell asked.

“Her name was Lily and… yeah, we’re not together any more. It just… it didn’t work out” Bosh said, sorrowfully.

“Well, doesn’t look like you’ve been working out either” Bluebell joked, before realising Bosh wasn’t in such a playful mood. “Oh, I’m sorry Bosh. I really am. Did you really like her then?”

“Honestly, no. I mean, I knew I was supposed to. But my heart wasn’t in it. So I’m kinda pissed off with myself for being upset. But here I fucking am. It makes no sense” Bosh sighed, her face petrified still.

“Well, there’s plenty more fish in the sea. And whales too, if you’re interested?” Bluebell joked, but Bosh just looked up, eyes wide.

“You know I love you, don’t you Blue?”

“Yeah. I do. And I love you too Bosh. Even though you are getting a bit big for my tastes” Bluebell cracked a smile and, begrudgingly, Bosh did too.

“Fuck you”

“I mean, you’ve just let yourself go Bosh. 11lbs? I mean, how do you even fit through doors?” Bluebell continued to tease.

“Alright, enough teasing. And is the door thing even a thing that happens?”

“I mean, dunno. I don’t think so. God, imagine being so big that you can’t even fit through doors” Bluebell laughed.

“You’ll get there eventually” Bosh sassed back.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it? I’m flattening my curve, remember?”

“There’s nothing flat about you”

“Says the woman who’s gained 11lbs”

“Says the woman who’s gained 140”

“Fuck you Bosh”

“Fuck you Blue”

“And now we’re coming out of lockdown, maybe we should meet up. It would be nice seeing you in the flesh. I’ve kinda missed you Bosh”

“Yeah. That actually sounds good. Not a date though. Just old friends. Meeting up”

“Yeah, exactly. Old friends. Big appetites”

“Well, let me know when and I’ll see you then. Gotta go, ordering pizza”

And Bluebell waved goodbye, and closed the ta on her browser. She put her laptop down by the side of her bed and lay on her back. Slowly, her stomach started rippling as she built up to a canter of a giggle, thinking about Bosh gaining weight and responding by ordering pizza. The thought of Bosh being anything other than skinny. Then, her hand fell down the side of her bed, and towards her handbag. She knew that in there was a Crunchie bar multipack. She picked it up and held it, biting her lip as she did. And then she put it back in her bag, and pulled out her cigarettes instead. Maybe she really could smoke herself skinny after all.

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16 minutes ago, Seraph said:

Wow! This is one of the best WG stories I've ever read! I love how it mirrors the current world -- it almost makes them feel like real people. I'm so glad you decided to continue, especially when we all need some comfort right now. Thank you! 💛

This is such a nice comment - thanks! Comments like that are the reason I don't mind spending hours writing these things so thank you. And mirroring the real world feels like a real big decision in light of current affairs, it makes it feel more real to me and grounds it a bit, though I'm in two minds over whether I regret writing this before the BLM stuff kicked off. But I hope it does bring some comfort, these are really bleak times and hopefully a bit more Bluebell can do just a little bit to help with that

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