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Bluebell's 2019


swahilimonkfish

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3 hours ago, dania201 said:

But she’s also the one who feels more vulnerable. Food is a friend that will never give you Covid. 

So true. I mean she's literally more vulnerable because of her weight, but she's also more vulnerable emotionally - slowly hiding from everything that scares her as an extension of her denial. 

And you're right, food is never gonna give you covid. Food is never gonna let you down. Food is never gonna run around and desert you...

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  • 4 weeks later...

November 2020***

Part 1


“I’m proud of you, Blue. Really. It’s so great to see you looking after yourself”

“This counts as self-care? Niiice” Bluebell smiled, biting into her egg mcmuffin.

“Yes, it’s the McDonald’s I’m talking about. Not about getting the support you need” Bosh said, as she flicked the indicator switch on.

“Don’t… don’t call it that”

“What?”

“Support. Getting the support I need.  It makes me sound… pathetic” Bluebell explained as she finished off her mcmuffin and dusted the crumbs off her stomach and into the footwell of the car.

“What term would your sensitive snowflake ears prefer?” Bosh smiled. She’d been a lot cheerier with Blue since the regular doctor’s appointments.

“Self-care…”

“I literally said self-care, you bitch! And you were all like ‘What, eating McDonalds is self-care?’” Bosh mocked.

“That… that isn’t how the conversation went. But thanks, anyway. I appreciate the compliment” Bluebell said, before slurping on her coke.

“Does… does he mind about the fact that you eat a McDonalds literally before going to see the doctor? Or are they chill, like me”

“Like you?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking chill, me”

“And anyway, I’ve told you. Doctor-patient confidentiality. What happens when I’m with Doc is private” 

“Yeah, but I’m your girlfriend. Nothing should be private from me”

“Oh, reeeaal chill, you are. Possessive motherfucker" Bluebell laughed, before biting into one of the cookies from the five-pack of them that she had bought at Tescos.

“Fuck. I feel like that was a trap. Oooo, cookies?”

“I thought you were on a diet?” Bluebell rose her eyebrow at her girlfriend, who was taking her eye off the road on Bluebell’s snack.

“One cookie is fine. I’m allowed one cookie”

“Oh, so you only want one cookie then? Cool, the other four for me then”

“Wait, how many cookies would you have let me have?” Bosh said, licking her lips and driving distracted from the road ahead of her.

“I was going to go halvesies. But, if you only want one…” Bluebell teased. “It’s not like white chocolate and raspberry are your favourite or anything…”

“Oh, you are such an arsehole, Bluebell!” Bosh gently hit Bluebell’s well-cushioned arms.

“Unless… of course… I’d bought a second pack with me… just for my lovely girlfriend” Bluebell smirked, pulling a second bag of cookies out for her girlfriend.

“I take back the thing about you being an arsehole” Bosh smiled.

“Ohhh… easily swayed, I see”

“But seriously, you actually bought me something? Oh my god, that’s so sweet!”

“I always buy you things?”

“No, you always buy things. But not for me. That’s okay. I’m not complaining. You’re between jobs and everything and… I like our dynamic. I buy you treats because I love you and you buy… yourself more treats because you’re peckish”

“Now you’re the arsehole!” Bluebell laughed. “And I do buy you stuff”.

“It’s okay Blue, it’s not a complaint. Seriously. This is just… I dunno… you’ve been different since you’ve been seeing the doctor. Happier. Warmer. Putting more effort into your appearance. I mean… we were struggling I think, at one point. But… I think we’ve turned the corner. And it’s you that’s done it Blue. You that turned the corner” Bosh said with genuine feeling. Bluebell fidgeted at the words. “That said… I’m not eating all them cookies, Blue”.

“And now you know why I don’t buy you stuff. When I buy me stuff, I’m always grateful” Bluebell said, trying to make it clear she was joking by exaggerating every content word with syrup-thick facetiousness.

“I am grateful. But five cookies? How does that square with my diet, Blue?”

“You still doing that?”

“Yes I’m still fucking doing that!”

“And how’s it going?”

“Shit. It's going shit. I blame that all-nighter when all we did was order pizza after pizza while we drank and watched the news”

“That was really nice of you, doing that with me, by the way. And it was exciting, wasn’t it? I can’t believe Biden lost Florida! Fucking Miami, of all places!”

“No Blue, it was the most boring night of my life. It’s two days later and we still don’t know who’s won. I ate all that pizza for nothing” Bosh grumbled.

“Sorry”

“Look, it’s not just that one pizza-based aberration. It’s been me. My motivation’s been shit. It’s just.... the weather’s been shit so I’ve not been going out. And work’s been just so exhausting and…”

“Honestly Bosh, you don’t have to explain yourself to me, of all people” Bluebell replied supportively between slow chews.

“Anyway, I’ve gained back the 4lbs that I lost the month before. But I’m back on it for this November…”

“You think the weather in November is going to be less shit?”

“No but…”

“Come on, make up your mind Bosh. I only have one cookie left and then I’m gonna start eating yours” Bluebell said, finishing off the penultimate cookie.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me!”

“Okay, how many calories? It’s… look, it says right there on the front” Bosh said, briefly leaning over to show the calorie count. Or pie chart of doom, as it had become in Bosh’s calorie counting world.

“199 calories. See, that’s not so bad”

“200 calories? Per cookie?!”

“199 calories, not 200. But yeah, per cookie”

“Fuck Blue, I’m only allowed 1200 calories a day on this diet. A pack of them and that’s only leaving me with 200 spare. I’d have to spend the rest of the day on just 200 calories. What can you eat for 200 calories?”

“A sixth cookie?” Bluebell suggested, through a smirk.

“You are irrepressible”

“Fuck, why are you using words like that when it’s still morning? And anyway, I think the moral of the story is to just not look how many calories things are. Then you can eat as many as you like” Bluebell finished her last cookie.

“No Blue. Just no. That’s not how it works Blue”

“Actually, if you can’t see it, it isn’t there. That’s a scientific fact”

“Never teach science, Blue” Bosh smiled. “Oh fuck it, give me the pack then”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to alleviate you of a couple? Y’know, to ease the burden on your guilty conscience?” Bluebell suggested, eyeing them carefully.

“You could actually eat more? After the McDonalds and 5 cookies?”

“And the bacon butty you made me this morning”

“Oh yeah, and the bacon and sausage butty I made you this morning”

“Which was very nice, by the way”

“Awww, glad you liked it, Blue”

“And yeah, I could easily eat a couple more cookies. In fact, I’m kinda tempted anyway. Y'know, just to protect your figure” Bluebell smiled mischievously, while Bosh pulled the car over, reversing into a parking bay next door to the medical unit.

“I honestly don’t know where you put it” Bosh smiled back.

“I mean, I’m not small”

“How much do you weigh these days, by the way?”

“You know I’m not telling you. It’s between me and the Doc” Bluebell spat her tongue out as she said it.

“Well, in that case…” Bosh leaned over. “I’m having all these for myself, you impudent fuck!”

“Anyway, thanks for driving me here babe” Bluebell took advantage of Bosh leaning over and planted a kiss on her lips.

“Anything for you Blue. Anything for you. Speaking of which, d’ya need a hand getting out?”

“No, I’m not so fat that I can’t get out of a car Bosh” Blue rolled her eyes, before slowly heaving herself out of the vehicle.

She waved to her girlfriend as she closed the door, and watched Bosh race away in her car, driving in typically care-free fashion. Once the car had made its way around the corner and officially out of sight, Bluebell opened her handbag again and pulled out another packet of cookies, and put one in her mouth with a rebellious grin.
 

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9 minutes ago, dania201 said:

God bless purses and handbags for hiding snacks! ❤️❤️❤️
 

Great chapter, @swahilimonkfish!

I mean, that's their purpose, right?

And thanks for your kind words, yet again. Except, I'm afraid this chapter has a long way to go still. It was always gonna be a hefty one, but I'm up to part 4 currently and trying to stop a fifth. This chapter - this year's penultimate - is the Bluebell equivalent of a Game of Thrones episode 9. This quick and sweet starter is not an indicator of where it's going to go, I'm afraid. It's a rollercoaster to write, I can tell you that much

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3 hours ago, swahilimonkfish said:

I mean, that's their purpose, right?

And thanks for your kind words, yet again. Except, I'm afraid this chapter has a long way to go still. It was always gonna be a hefty one, but I'm up to part 4 currently and trying to stop a fifth. This chapter - this year's penultimate - is the Bluebell equivalent of a Game of Thrones episode 9. This quick and sweet starter is not an indicator of where it's going to go, I'm afraid. It's a rollercoaster to write, I can tell you that much

I’m excited to read the rest, then! You’re so good with these things. 
 

And “twists and turns” is very apropos at the moment lol... 🗳 🕰 

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1 hour ago, dania201 said:

I’m excited to read the rest, then! You’re so good with these things. 
 

And “twists and turns” is very apropos at the moment lol... 🗳 🕰 

Yeah, I enjoyed setting this chapter in the middle of all the current twisting and turning, given what a politics enthusiast Bluebell is lol

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Part 2


“Alright Margaret, alright Janet. Oh, and how did your Henry’s job interview go?”

“Oh, hi Bluebell!” Janet looked up and smiled. Or at least, she probably did, though it was hard to tell underneath the mask. “Oh, I don’t know about the interview, honestly. You can never tell with these things, can you?”

“Well, I hope he gets it. Oh, is she here, by the way?”

“Yeah, she’s just in with a patient at the minute. I’m sure she won’t be long. Oh, by the way Bluebell, you’ve got some crumbs on your top” Janet pointed out from where she was standing, behind the perspex glass of the doctor’s reception.

“Fuck! Good catch, Janet” Bluebell said, patting herself down to rid herself of crumbage. “She’d have gone through the roof if she’d have caught them on me”.

“How is the diet going, anyway?”

“It’s not a diet. Diets are short-termist and don’t work. What I’m doing is adopting some healthier lifestyle choices” Bluebell said, parrotting the language she’d heard from her very first appointment.

“Well, in that case, how are the healthier lifestyle choices going?” the receptionist asked, while her colleague answered the phones.

“Oh Janet, it’s going so badly, like you wouldn’t believe. Being healthy is such a ballache” Bluebell tilted her head in despair, and groaned at the futility of it all.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, my darling. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it. You tried exercising?”

“Not you too Janet! I get this from Doc. And no, I haven’t done any exercise. Unless you count coming here” Bluebell said, as she got herself comfy on the waiting chairs.

“You walked all the way here?”

“No, Bosh drove. But I walked to and from the car, so that’s gotta count. I must have taken dozens of steps, at least…”

“You are a rascal, Bluebell” Janet laughed, before going to answer a phone call that had just come through, leaving Bluebell on her own in the quiet of the medical place’s waiting room.

Bluebell fidgeted in her seat, trying to get comfortable, and then giving herself a quick once over to make sure there were no remnants of her en-route snacking left on her dress. The dress in question was a long, flowy thing, though it was longer and flowier when it was bought. But its patterned design was identified by the curating eye of Bosh on sale a couple of weeks ago, as the majority of her wardrobe was beginning to adopt the Bosh seal of approval. The look was finished off with a denim jacket that, truthfully, no longer fit and a headband in her hair.

It pleased Bosh no end to see Blue finally make more effort with her appearance, something she’d stopped doing since the original break-up. Sure, when she was indoors, it was the slackiest, laziest clothing choices that their limited funds could buy. And sure, she spent most of her life indoors. But these new weekly ventures to see the doctor had given her an excuse to wear fancier clothes picked out by Bosh. And a second advantage was that it meant she didn’t need to know what size she was these days. And there was definitely a case of ignorance being bliss.

After a few minutes of staring at her phone, scrolling through her Twitter feed to see if Michigan had officially gone Biden’s way, she got up at gently made her way to receptionist where Janet was now free and off the phone.

“Janet love, if Doc does come out, just tell her I’m out for a smoke and I’ll be back in a sec”

“Ahh, them healthier lifestyle choices I see”

“Look, one cigarette’s not gonna do any harm”

“Are you tryna tell me you didn’t have a crafty one before you walked in here?”

“Look, two cigarette’s not gonna do any harm” Bluebell smirked, as Janet rolled her eyes at her. Bluebell never ran out of ways to induce a roll of the eyes and a wry grin in others.

It took four cigarettes, a final five-pack of cookies that Bluebell had sworn to herself that she would save for tomorrow, and Donald Trump insisting that Wyoming needed a recount before a patient finally left the building and Bluebell knew that it was her turn next.

She put her mask back on and hustled in. Barely a few steps into the building again and Janet was there, gesturing subtly towards Bluebell’s dress again. Guiltily, Bluebell shook off the latest round of crumbs that had settled on her increasingly shelf-like chest. She then headed into room 11 down the corridor and on the right.

She knocked before she went in, a hesitant, delicate knock. A knock nervous to interrupt or impose. She was cordially invited into the room though, and Bluebell politely obliged.

“Ahhh, Bluebell. Come in. Sit down there on the bed, it’s fine” the doctor asked, formally. “I’ll be with you in a minute”.

“Sure” Bluebell pulled herself up and sat there with her legs dangling down towards the floor like a little girl. The doctor finished entering data onto her computer and wheeled over to Bluebell on her chair.

The doctor was early 40s and smartly presented. Her black hair was tied back sharply into a ponytail and the red of her lipstick was radiant. Her white coat covered a slightly soft but broadly lean physique, with a black blouse and skirt, with black tights underneath.

“So Bluebell Thomas, how have things been?”

“Well, after Florida, it looked bleak, but things seem to be turning around now…”

“No, you Bluebell. Not the US Presidential elections. How have you been?”

“Oh, yeah. Okay, I guess” Bluebell blushed.

“No, come on Bluebell, properly. Let’s start at the beginning. How are things in your personal life. Things going okay with… Bosh?” the Doctor asked firmly.

“I dunno, normal”

“From what you’ve told me, normal’s not very good. How about your back? Does it still hurt?” 

“Ummm… a bit better, maybe. About the same? I’ve been exercising it a bit more”

“Oh, good. That’s good to hear. And your weight?”

“That’s… private. Girlfriend/girlfriend confidentiality. It’s between me and Bosh” Bluebell smiled a bit at that. The GP just shook her head.

“Okay, well let’s have a look at your back, shall we? Can you take off your top and turn around so I can have a look please?” the doctor said matter-of-factly.

“It’s… it’s a dress”

“That’s fine. Just take it off”

Bluebell hesitated, before taking off her dress. It wasn’t an easy activity at the best of times, but in the cold of the doctor’s office, everything felt a little more taxing. A dress that had begun to give in to the lazy pull of tightness over the past couple of weeks, did so but now more keenly than ever before. It felt awkward. Slow, clumsy, cumbersome. And that was before she was sitting down in the office of a doctor in just her undergarments.

The sitting itself, brought about apprehension. As she perched with restless tension, the sitting position was perhaps the pose least flattering. Not that many poses were flattering these days, but she didn’t need a further disservice to her waistline, she’d provided many of them herself. As it was, she felt her stomach sit on her lap like wet dough, spooling out from her midriff. Her back, the part of her that was facing the doctor, was widened with adipose, causing a caterpillar rippling of concertinaed bulges. At the lower part of her back was where they were most prominent, thick with inches of overindulgence.

“So, you’re going to feel something very cold on your back” the doctor instructed her, her voice in Bluebell’s ear.

Bluebell winced with chill as the cold contact just above her coccyx could be felt. The jolt was noticeable to the medical professional.

“Okay, that’s fine, I’m just going to probe for a bit, this doesn’t hurt does it?” the doctor asked, and Bluebell simply shook her head in response.

“Yeah, I don’t sense any swelling but… let me just…” the doctor continued, gently probing. “Yeah, I think I’m just gonna get a bit closer. How’s this?”

“That’s great, doc” Bluebell said, still facing away. The cold touch was now rising up her back and the doctor’s breath could be felt on the back of the neck.

“I think, Bluebell, you need to exercise it more…”

“Can you help with that, Doc?” Bluebell replied, as she felt the doctor’s body press against hers.

“I insist. Doctor’s orders” and the doctor leaned over Bluebell’s shoulders and in for a kiss, her cold hands on Bluebell’s shivering shoulders. Eventually, the doctor pulled away.

“This is so much fun, by the way…”

“Stop it, Blooby, you’re killing the mood. Now, I feel like I need to continue with an all-body examination…”

And Bluebell continued her tryst with the doctor with the medical professional biting down on her shoulder.
 

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November*** Part 3

3 weeks ago


“Yeah, it’s in the bag. Biden will take the Senate too, I reckon. A blue wave is coming… which is so weird to say, because I’m so used to blue being the colour of the evil party but… oh shit, I’ve gotta go, I’m being called. Yeah, love you, bye Bosh. Bye. See ya. Ta-ra, see ya, bye” Bluebell said, hanging up the phone as the receptionist beckoned for the large girl to head to the doctor’s office. Bluebell squinted at the receptionist’s nametag. Janet. Yeah, made sense. She looked like a Janet.

“Come on love, it’s just down here” the kindly receptionist said.

“Sorry Janet, umm… this doctor… he’s not… scary or anything, is he?” Bluebell asked nervously.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Karagounis doesn’t bite. You’ll be fine. She’ll look after you” Janet reassured as she walked the lumbering girl through.

“Thanks, Janet” Bluebell said with a smile, although the smile couldn't be seen through the mask meaning she probably just looked like a gormball. Bluebell, nervously, knocked on the door and the doctor called for her to come in.

The doctor was female. And pretty. This was not a good thing. Cheese was a good thing. Doughnuts were a good thing. But being professionally judged on the topic of health by someone so much thinner and someone so naturally attractive felt painfully humiliating. Doctor Karagounis had thick black hair, naturally curly but straightened by the pull of her bobble that she wore for her ponytail. The doctor wore dark colours, various shades of grey perhaps going up to 50. And no make-up, though the lower part of her face was covered. But she didn’t need to. She looked good anyway. The bitch.

“Hi…”

“Oh, hi. Bluebell Thomas, is it? Oh my, that’s a lovely name…” the doctor said, and Bluebell cringed inside. She seemed cheerful and nice too. What an absolute piss-take.

“If you like getting bullied at school, that is” Bluebell noted drolly. “Please, call me anything else. Blue, Bloob…”

“Blooby?” the doctor suggested with a light laugh.

“I mean… I guess”

“Okay, Blooby. I’m Doctor Callista Karagounis, but you can just call me Doc. And how can I help you today… Blooby?”

“I swear you’re having fun at my expense…”

“Maybe”

“Umm… well, I… my girlfriend wanted me to come. No… can I rephrase that…” Bluebell blushed chronically.

“If you like. Relax. This is a safe place” the doctor reassured.

“She… I have this back problem and… it’s probably just nothing but… she insisted…”

“Look, your girlfriend is right…”

“I’m not gonna tell her that you said that”

“If you have a problem, it is right that you see me. It might be nothing, like you say. But it might be something. We don’t know until we have a look. So, do you want to sit there on the bed and pull up your shirt, and I will have a look” the doctor asked, with a formal but friendly tone.

“Fuck” Bluebell muttered under her breath as the rolled up the back of her navy polo.

“Now, where does it hurt?” the doctor said, pressing against Bluebell’s soft back.

“I dunno. Sort of in the middle-ish. If that clears it up for you” Bluebell said, disarmingly.

“Oh yes, the middle of the back. I know it well” the doctor laughed. “So, Blooby… you say it hurts. When does it hurt? When you wake up? When you exercise? When you sit?”

“Yes. To all of the above. Apart from the exercise one. You can probably tell I don’t really… y’know…” Bluebell trailed off as the doctor continued to probe.

“Well, I don’t feel any inflammation. Which is good. And everything feels fine. Okay, you can put your shirt back down if you like” the doctor said, wheeling away on her chair and inputting data into her computer.

“So, what’s the prognosis Doc?”

“Well… I don’t know, basically. Look, we have two options here. One, we can go for a scan. Do you know what a CAT scan is?”

“Yeah, it’s… the opposite of dogs can’t”

“Sorry, I…”

“Dogs can’t… but cats can” Bluebell joked.

“That… is a terrible joke and I love it” the doctor laughed. “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes. The other option is more… physiotherapy and just looking after it a bit more, and see if that helps. Now, the decision is up to you. I don’t think a CAT scan will be needed personally, but it’s your decision”.

Bluebell paused.

“When you say physiotherapy… you mean doing exercises, don’t you? Cos… I… I’m not really a big exercise girl…” Bluebell felt cold, all of a sudden.

“Honestly, exercise can cure anything and everything. Issues with mood and sadness? Exercise can help. Stress getting on top of you? Exercise can help. Insomnia? Exercise can help. Demonic possession? Exorcise can help”

“Sorry…”

“Exorcise. See, we can all do dad jokes in here” the doctor’s eyes were smiling. Bluebell’s eyes smiled back.

“It’s just… I mean… just look at me, Doc. I’m not really built for exercise”

“That’s the third strike. You’re out. No more self-deprecation about your size. I’m not having it. Doctor Karagounis does not do self-pity. In here, we do self-affirmation”

“Well, that’s easy for you to say…”

“No it isn’t, it’s quite the mouthful” she laughed again. “Sorry, I have a bad sense of humour. Look, I’m sure your last doctor probably told you the same, so I don’t want to nag or anything. But weight loss would…”

“Oh here we fucking go” Bluebell sighed loudly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing”

“It didn’t sound like nothing. Bluebell?”

“Weight loss isn’t just a fucking button, okay! I don’t want to be fat! I don’t! This? This isn’t a choice. I just can’t fucking help it. But nobody fucking believes me when I say it. It’s all so easy from where they’re standing…”

“Now, calm down Bluebell…”

“Calm down? I’m sick of it! From you! From my mum! From Bosh! I’m just tired. Of the judgement. The silent judgement. The noisy judgement. The patronising judgement. The ‘I’m not judging you’ judgement. All of it. I wish… I don’t know what I fucking wish. For it to be over? I don’t know. The way she… she looks at me. Like she’s trying so hard to protect my fucking feelings. Do you know how that feels? To have people walk on eggshells around you? To tell you they love you, believe that they love you, and not?” Tears were pouring down her cheek, her breath ragged with emotion, most of it undigested.

“Okay, breathe Bluebell…”

“And you’re just the same. With your good looks and your fancy job and your tight body and you wedding ring, happily married, probably with two kids, one of them will go to uni and become a doctor too, probably. You hit the gym three days a week. You eat stir-fries and salads and one blow-out on Fridays in your lovely house with friends that you haven’t lost contact with, and your parents talk to you…”

“Bluebell!”

“And, for the record, the last GP visit? The doctor didn’t say anything. You know why? Because I wasn’t fricking fat back then. When was it? Two fucking years ago. Yeah, I’ve done all this in two years!” Bluebell stopped, her breathing staccato, her cheeks sodden.

The doctor just continued to sit on her chair and look at her.

“Are we done?”

Bluebell just nodded.

“Good, then I can carry on. As I was saying…”

“Sorry. I don’t know where that came from…”

“Look, it’s nothing. So, as I was…”

“It’s just, sometimes it just bursts out of me. And I don’t mean it to and…”

The doctor paused.

“Can I continue, Bluebell?”

Bluebell nodded.

“Weight loss will help. With your back. But maybe also your mood. You don’t sound happy and… have you considered seeing someone?”

“That’s… why I’m here”

“I mean, a therapist”

“I can’t afford one”

“Look, I can give you a referral. It’s not perfect, mental health support has been cut to ribbons the past ten years, but they should get you in. It might take 6 months but… it might help” the doctor said, concern etching frown lines on her forehead.

“You think I need one? Am I crazy?”

“Crazy? No. You’re not crazy, Bloobie. Sorry, I can’t take that nickname seriously” the doctor shook her head. “You’re not crazy, Bluebell. But everyone needs help. And, if you are having relationship troubles and parental problems and you feel disconnected from your social support group of friends… everyone needs someone. I mean… I see a therapist”

“Fuck off!”

“It’s true. And it helps. Some of the time. Some of the time it doesn’t. It’s not magic. It’s not a cure-all. But it sometimes helps” the doctor explained calmly. But caringly.

“I mean, doing nothing fixes nothing, I guess” Bluebell said quietly.

“I like that line. I might use that one myself” Doctor Karagounis snickered. “Now, there was one thing you said, in that… outburst, that I want to loop back to”

“Just one?” Bluebell nervously suggested, feeling guilty about her mini-tirade.

“Well… there were a few things. But… I have to mention, as a responsible medical professional, you said that your weight gain has been recent and sudden? Now, I know you don’t want to talk about…”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it”

“But I’m not here to judge…”

“Yes you are. That’s exactly what you’re gonna do”

“Not… not your character. I have to judge you medically, sure. I’m a GP, it’s my job. But I’m not here to say whether you’re… going to go to Heaven or Hell. That’s someone else’s job. So, we should talk about it, okay?”

Bluebell puffed her cheeks out. Sitting there, on the edge of the bed, she felt like an imposter. Like someone who didn’t belong in the room. On foreign soil. She just wanted it to end. And, normally, she’d have just walked out. But it was harder when the doctor was attractive and funny and kind.

“Fine” Bluebell responded, her voice dipping down at the end like a reprimanded child.

“Good. Now, your old doctor’s notes from your old surgery haven’t come over yet. That’s nothing to worry about, it’s the virus. We’re all running behind on that stuff. But, do you remember how much you used to weigh? At your last appointment? Roughly, you don’t have to be exact”

“116lbs” Bluebell muttered.

“Okay, I just… need to convert that to kilos and...52.6. Excellent. Now, would you like to stand on this scale for me?” the doctor said, typing in information as she spoke.

“Do I have to?”

“No. You don’t have to. It’s entirely up to you. But, there’s this great line I heard. It goes ‘doing nothing, fixes nothing’” Doctor Karagounis said, with a slight chuckle.

“That is a good line, to be fair. Fiiine, I’ll… I mean, how bad can it be?” Bluebell said, knowing immediately that was a dark path of thought to wander down. But it was too late, she’d already gone there. It had been, three or four months since she last stepped on a scale. Not out of self-care or anything so dignified. Out of fear. Out of that sinking feeling. That drowning feeling. That lump of emotion logged at the back of the throat. And it was there again. Now. Sitting there, Like clay thrown against the wall. Three or four months it was that she discovered that she’d hit the 300lb mark, and she’d been avoiding the scales like the scales had covid ever since then.

“Doc, should I… take off my trainers or…”

“I mean, if you want. It would technically be a more accurate reading but I don’t think it will make too much of a difference”

Bluebell didn’t need any encouragement. They came off straight away, flicked away without untying the laces. Then, she stood straight, facing the scales, and took a deep breath, like a sports athlete preparing themselves for the start of a competition. Slowly, one foot went on the scales. And, as she lifted the second one up, she heard the clunking of automation until both feet were on and the weight was again evenly distributed.

She looked down, and saw the number.

164?

That couldn’t be right.

Oh, shit, it was in kg. Bluebell rolled her eyes inwardly in disappointment at not realising that. And then she was left, with a number she didn’t really understand. Was 164? Did she want to know, even?

“Oh. Ummm.... two years, you say?” the doctor scowled, writing the number down. The tone of her voice indicated it wasn’t good news.

“What… is it? In pounds?”

“Oh, umm… you sure you want to know?” the doctor said, not quite as clinical-sounding as she did earlier.

“Oh god, that bad?”

“I mean… look, you’re still young so I wouldn’t…”

“Wow. That bad, huh? Least-you-have-your-youth levels of bad?” Bluebell joked. But the joke nearly got stuck on the way up. She nearly choked on it. Her voice was dry with dread.

“Do you want to sit back down, Bluebell?” the doctor gestured back at the bed. Bluebell nervously walked over there, feeling the blood drain from her face. She could feel the pull of gravity around her eyes, as she lowered herself gently back on the bed.

“I dunno, maybe it was three years ago and not two… the last doctor’s appointment” Bluebell lied, mainly to herself, as she reached for something, anything, to hold onto. It was a forlorn attempt that didn’t help much nor sound convincing.

“It’s 366lbs” the doctor told her, like a policeman informing someone that a family had been in a terrible accident and might not pull through.

Bluebell sat there, stunned. Her eyes couldn’t focus, they just stared into thin air. Her shoulders scrunched up and she just sat still, the occasional jolt. Weird noises came from her, noises that slowly coalesced into the sound of whimpering and tears. Two years. 250lbs.

“I feel sick”

“Hey, hey…” the doctor said, sitting next to her, arm around her back.

“I’m done. I’ve got nothing. Nothing left. What’s the point? In anything. What’s the…” Bluebell muttered to herself, almost deliriously, not making sense.

“Hey, Blooby, come on. You can pick yourself up from this. It’s… ahhh shit, I’ve got another appointment due. I tell you what. I have a lunch break in about 35 minutes. Hang around, sit in the waiting room, it’s desolate out there anyway. And you can come sit with me and we can talk. Not just doctor to patient, but Callista to Blooby, okay?”

Bluebell nodded, unable to dredge any words from the deep seabed of her thoughts. Stunned, she shuffled out the door and sat in the waiting room for the longest, most painful 35 minutes of her life.
 

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November 2020***

Part 4


If you’d have asked Bluebell what she was expecting, numerically, when she stepped on the scale, she would have just shrugged. Numbers had slid off her in the past 12 months like water off a duck’s back. It never stuck. It never resonated. She was weirdly numb to it all. The numbers stopped making sense once she got to a certain point. What was the difference between 220 and 250. It just stopped meaning anything.

So why did it change? Why did it all collapse in the doctor’s room, ten minutes ago? Bluebell was sitting on the doctor’s chair in a blanket provided by Janet to prevent the shivering that had overtook her, and trying to work it out.

Did she think that maybe it would have plateaued by now? Surely, at some point, it should have. Things can’t keep getting away from her, just drifting beyond an eternal horizon. But, it couldn’t have been that, because she knew she wasn’t plateauing. She knew it every time she wore clothes that she hadn’t put on for a few months. Her size sometimes got lost on her, besides a new wrinkle of fat in an innocuous place, but she knew she was growing.

Was it the scale of the jump? Over 60 pounds in one fell swoop. She remembered the first 60. The first 60 had ruined her relationship with Bosh, to the point that she was beginning to believe was irreparable. The first 60 had sewn the first seeds of her mum’s frustration and consequent othering. The first 60 had caused the wheels to fall off. Why should these 60 be any different?

Was it the fact that she was already emotional. From relationship woes that had been threatening to poke their head above the surface more and more often, until they would never submerge again. The dread of seeing the doctor, something that she’d built up in her mind as some sort of monolith in her mind. The crying outburst when the phrase ‘weight gain’ was mentioned, which felt like a reflex, like a vampire pulling back from the sun. All of it left her emotions much closer to the surface than she liked to leave them.

Or was it Doc?

Such embarrassment in front of a stranger, such an enviable stranger at that, felt like cruelty. Like a stabbing pain and a mocking laugh rolled into one. She seemed so nice, that it also felt like disappointment. Like with her parents all over again. The Doc seemed slightly younger than her mum, but only by 5-10 years. Something about that age gap felt maternal. And yet, at the beginning, when they were joking, it was like being with Bosh but without the baggage.

When the Doc went pale at the number, that was the real knife wound. The kind of moment that you can’t cope with but can’t shake. Just swirling in your mind like an anxiety spiral. Every time she tried not to think about it, thinking about not thinking about it made her think about it. And Doc’s disappointed face and quiet words were there. What thoughts of the doctor’s could possibly elicit such a response? It was too painful a question to even ask.

“She’s just gone into the staff room love, if you want to go see her?” Janet said with a concerned face.

“Can I take the blanket?” was the only response that Bluebell could muster.

“Ohh, of course you can love” Janet said, as Bluebell pulled herself up to her feet. She walked unsteadily behind Janet towards the other side of the doctor’s surgery. Janet opened the door and Bluebell walked in. And, as promised, there was Doc, standing at the microwave and waiting for it to ping.

“Oh, hey. You okay. God, you look pale. Come, sit down. I’m just doing some lunch. Not salad or stir-fry before you say anything. Curry, actually. Red lentil curry. Got it from one of those Jamie Oliver cook books. Really nice actually. What I do is I cook a batch on Sunday, a huge amount. And then me and Wallace have the same meal for every lunch that week. And, by Thursday, you get seriously sick of it. Oh sorry, I’m waffling…” The doctor said, remembering herself.

“It’s… okay. It’s nice. Takes my mind off it. Is… Wallace your…”

“Yeah, for better or worse, Wallace is my husband. Why did I have to marry a vegetarian?”

Bluebell felt the corners of her cheek upturn, but she stubbornly flattened them out again, resisting the temptation to smile.

“So… how are you feeling, Blooby. You gave me quite a scare with the trembling. I nearly called an ambulance”

“You haven’t, have you?” Bluebell looked over at her in worry.

“No. No, I… don’t worry” Doctor Karagounis reassured. Bluebell felt the relief hit her.

“Thanks”

“So... “ The Doc said, after her first mouthful. “What’s that on your arm?”

“Oh…” Bluebell stammered, realising that the doctor was gesturing towards the tattoo. “It’s… a flower. A… I’ll show you. Look, a rose”.

“Awww, that’s nice. Nice detail. Wrong flower for your name though” the doctor joked.

“Actually it used to be a Bluebell…”

“Oh, shut up! You used to have a tattoo of your name on your arm. Oh my god, you are precious, I love that” the doctor smiled with her mouthful, trying to stifle an ungracious laugh.

“Yeah… it sounds bad now. It seemed quite sensible at the time. I had blue hair too…”

“No way!”

“Yeah. Blue hair, bluebell on my arm, Bluebell as my name. It was a whole thing”

“I’m sorry, but that is so embarrassing! Seriously. You did the right thing in changing it. Either the tattoo and the hair or just change the name”

“Thanks” Bluebell suddenly realised that she was smiling again. “Doc…”

“Yup?”

“Do I… have a problem? Like, my weight and everything…” Bluebell asked, causing the doctor to almost choke on my lunch.

“Oh shit… sorry, I shouldn’t swear… um… we’re doing that now?”

“Sorry, I…”

“Oh no, no… it’s… come on then, let’s do it. Do you have a problem? Well… ummm… I don’t know? Okay, let’s rearrange this. What do you think? Do you think you have a problem?” the doctor said, recuperating.

“Yeah. I mean, I must do, mustn’t I? 250lbs in less than two years…”

“Are you on any medication or…”

“No. This is all from eating. Sorry, but…”

“Why are you apologising?” the doctor mildly upbraided.

“Because I’m unhealthy and you’re a doctor and… aren’t I everything you hate?”

“Everything I hate? Wow, that’s a bit much. No. I love unhealthy people. I’d be unemployed, otherwise. You pay my bills Blooby. My mortgage would swallow me whole if it wasn’t for you” the doctor lightened the mood a little, sensing Bluebell slipping into negativity again.

“So I shouldn’t lose weight?” and the doctor laughed at the question.

“You should definitely lose weight. Just not for me. Do it for yourself. And whatever your weird-named girlfriend was called…” and this time it was Bluebell’s turn to laugh.

“Bosh. Her name’s Bosh. Well… her name’s Louise but…”

“Bosh? Bosh and Blooby? Sounds like a children’s book”

“Well, to be fair, you’re the only one that calls me Blooby” Bluebell smiled again. One thing she hadn’t noticed when she’d come in but she’d noticed now her inner-hostility had quietened a little, was that Doc had her mask off. Bluebell could see her whole face. She was pretty. Her cheeks were chiseled out and her eyes danced with life. And her mouth never stopped smiling.

“You said that you and Bosh were having relationship trouble?”

“Yeah. It’s… we should never have got back together. She’s my… first. First girlfriend. First love. First person I moved in with. First girl I kissed. All of it. And things were great, two years ago. Well, maybe they weren’t. I dunno. Like, I think maybe I wasn’t a great girlfriend. I was… am a bit of a daddy’s girl and she is… was a bit of an animal. She was amazing. Like, nothing else I’ve ever seen. A force of nature. I was jealous of her. And when I get jealous… that usually means I like them” Bluebell reminisced.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what changed?”

“My waistline. I’m an only child. I have Only Child Syndrome. So Bosh says. And she’s right. I’m spoilt. My dad, especially. He… yeah. I didn’t even realise, at first. I’d always been thin. I’d always been hot. Like, I just presumed nothing would change. That I wouldn’t grow up”

“Awww, just because you’re not thin doesn’t mean you’re not hot…”

“You think I’m hot?”

“Yeah, girls can have curves. Girls should have curves. I was reading this interview with this plus-size model, I can’t remember her name...”

“You do realise… just as a point of clarification… I’m a lesbian. So when an attractive woman calls her hot, it means something different, compared to a straight girl…” Bluebell said, feeling her cheeks slowly begin to burn.

“I’m not chatting you up, don’t worry. You’re young enough to be my daughter”

“Ouch!”

“No, I just mean… like, I’m 41. I am literally old enough to be your mother” Doctor Karagounis explained, smiling merrily away.

“Are you? A mother that is? Do you and Wallace have kids?”

“That’s doctor/husband confidentiality” she replied, joking. But maybe joking a little less.

“Sorry”

“Stop saying sorry!”

“Sorr… okay, I’ll stop saying… that word”

“Good!” the doctor replied, cheered up again. “So, looping back, you were saying that you broke up with Bosh and then got back together?”

“Yeah. Ummm… when we broke up, that was when everything just went tits up. I just… rebelled, I guess. I’d never rebelled against anything before. Never needed to, before. And I was just so… angry. So that’s when the drinking picked up. And I started smoking…”

“Now, as a doctor, I really need to…”

“And then I saw her again. Back when I was employed. She came in to the tattoo parlour where I used to work and… fuck, she looked amazing. Like, as I’d deteriorated, she’d just… improved. And we talked and… I thought I was being dead mature because we were gonna be one of them couples that… y’know, were still good friends even after they split. Like the celebs always lie and claim to be. But, it wasn’t me being mature. It was me being immature and wanting to get with her. Until I did. And it sucks.”

“It sucks?”

“Yeah, she… she doesn’t like me. She thinks she does, but she doesn’t. She feels like she owes me, she feels duty-bound to be with me. She… doesn’t find me attractive. I mean… she has to be ** to… do anything with me. Y’know, sex…”

“You can say the word ‘sex’ to your doctor. It’s medically permissable…”

“And… it’s just so hard…”

“We medical professionals prefer the term ‘tumulescent’” the doctor joked again, but Bluebell didn’t listen this time.

"... Not being loved. By anyone. Do you know what that’s like? The only person who comes close to loving me is my gay best friend and he’s now half the country away. My mum is poisoning my dad against me and Bosh doesn’t like me. I’m unloveable. It’s as simple as that”

The doctor stared sharply at her.

“Blooby… I would ask that you don’t get to call yourself unloveable. For me, if for nobody else. Don’t call yourself unloveable. That’s not fair. And I mean this. You don’t. Nobody is and nobody should settle for being with someone who doesn’t love them. Find someone who does”

“Who? We’re constantly locked down, I’m in a town where I don’t know anyone at the best of times. I feel soooo self-conscious every time I go out because I remember what I used to look like and then I look at myself now and I just don’t recognise myself. Even this, which is so nice of you and I’m grateful, but it’s just extended professional courtesy. Like, I bet you take in abandoned dogs in your spare time…”

“Cats, actually” Doctor Karagounis replied, under her breath.

“Sorry?”

“We… take in wounded and abandoned cats. I… I’m a fixer. I like to fix things. Wallace says I’m the patron saint of lost causes, and…”

“Oh. Thanks. So, I’m a lost cause?” Bluebell said, and the way that final phrase tasted in her mouth was disgusting. Acrid. Because, at the pit of her fairly extensive stomach, was that a lost cause was how she saw herself.

“God, no. I’m sorry…”

“Look, this has been nice Doc and I appreciate the effort but… I desperately need a smoke after all these emotions” Bluebell said, rummaging into her handbag to find the packet, partly to obscure her teary face.

“There’s a smoking section round the back. I can… join you if you like?”

“Really? Do you smoke?”

“God no. Quitting was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I’ve performed an emergency tracheotomy using a ball-point pen. But… the passive smoke sounds good right now” the doctor smiled.

“Fine. You can come. With me, that is… as in, I don’t mind the company… god, does everything I say sound like an innuendo. Just, as long as you don’t spend the time telling me to go on a diet” Bluebell insisted.

“I wouldn’t anyway. Diets don’t work”

“Really?”

“I mean, we recommend them as a short-termist measure, to get weight under control, before we start a more long-termist strategy. But, what you need to do is adopt healthier lifestyle choices. Diets are temporary but lifestyle choices are permanent. You need to see yourself as a healthier person, enjoy making healthier choices. That is the trick”

“I’ll give it a pass” Bluebell said. “But I’ll take the company”.
 

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November 2020***

Part 5


“Breathe on me, could you?”

“Doc, I’m not sure that’s good advice. Y’know, there’s this whole bug going about, called corona… dunno if you’ve read about it or…” Bluebell said, between drags.

“You’re right. It’s just…”

“You wanna be naughty? Yeah, I get that” Bluebell smiled, puffing smoke in the doctor’s direction. She inhaled gratefully.

“You know, I miss it. A little insight here but there are still, eight years later, nights where I dream I’m smoking. And there’s this weight of guilt sitting on my chest as I'm sleeping. But, my god, I also just want the dream to continue because I miss it” the doctor admitted.

“As doctor’s go, you seem to be a pretty bad influence” Bluebell smiled.

“You… said about being naughty? Is this why you eat?”

“Really? Like, we’ve been out here five seconds?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I dunno. It’s just bugging me. The way you talk about it, about yourself. You’re this pretty young thing with the world at her feet and you talk about yourself like your Marlon Brando in On The Waterfront… y’know ‘I coulda been someone, I coulda been a contender’”

“Yeah, I…. that reference is a bit before my time”

“Oh, screw you, that is way before my time too. Some of us are just cultural. What I’m trying to say is… is that what is going through your head, when you binge? Because you binge, don’t you?” the doctor said.

“I’ll tell you what? You have a smoke with me, and I’ll tell you”

“No”

“Fine then”

“Ohh… stop it. You know I want one”

“One won’t hurt…”

“You’re just… such a bad influence!” the doctor said, her eyes locked on Bluebell’s handbag where they were kept.

“Oh, I know. I’m the same with Bosh. Seriously. I feel like shit, so I pull her down with me, like a selfish Kraken. Which is… a weird simile. Anyway, she drinks and… too much, she drinks too much that is… and I encourage it. She’s even started gaining weight. And some of it’s schadenfreude and jealousy, some of it is just to feel less guilty about myself and… you’re not listening are you?”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Oh my fucking god, stop ogling my handbag like it’s single. You can have one”

“Oh, thank god. I need this” Doctor Karagounis sighed, receiving the cigarette and putting it between her lips. With her eyes closed, she let Bluebell light it, and she exhaled deeply. “Fuck, I’ve missed that. Y’know, Wallace will kill me if he finds out. Not literally, I must point out, for legal reasons”.

“What’s he like?”

“Hey… stop changing the subject. We were talking about your eating disorder”

“Eating disorder?”

“Yes, Blooby. I think it is safe to say you have an eating disorder. That’s why I was asking those questions”

“Oh fuck…” Bluebell’s eyes began to tear up.

“Hey, don’t worry. That’s a good thing”

“How is it a good thing? I eat so much it’s a clinical disorder…”

“It means the reason you eat isn’t because you’re weak-willed or ill-disciplined. Because that’s what so many people think when they have these things. But that’s not the case. It means you have a clinical disorder. It’s… not your fault. Like, blaming someone with COVID for coughing. You wouldn’t do that, would you? Of course you wouldn’t. It’s not their fault, it’s the disease. You’re the same. And if you do have it, and we can diagnose it, we can start the long road towards fixing it. Which is a good thing. So...what do you think about when you binge?” the doctor said, looking at her patient with sympathy.

“I dunno. Depends. Sometimes it’s… what you said. Y’know, about the… being naughty. Sometimes it is rebellion. Just a fuck you to Bosh and my parents and, I dunno, the world I guess. I get so angry with it, just for doing this to me. Which sounds so stupid when you say it out loud….”

“Hey, nothing is stupid when you’re standing next to a medical professional smoking after having quite nearly a decade ago…” the way the doctor’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Bluebell seemed intense and focused. But also kind and curious on a human level.

“And sometimes it’s a fuck you to myself. For getting here. Fat and alone. Ruining everything. And sometimes it’s relief. Like a cigarette after a stressful day. And other times it’s eating away your guilt. And sometimes it’s habit. And sometimes it’s because you can. And sometimes it's because I know I can't. And sometimes it’s because I just like the taste of food. And sometimes it’s because it makes me happy and sometimes it’s because it makes me sad. Sometimes it’s because I’m bored. It just kills a few minutes. That one has been happening a lot recently. Sometimes it’s… this sounds so stupid… I’m jealous. Of me two years ago, who could eat what she wanted and not gain weight. And look pretty with my mascara on and my blue hair and my cute dungarees, which were so cute by the way. And comfy. And sometimes it’s because I’m tired and I just want the thoughts to stop. Sometimes it’s because I… want it all to stop. And sometimes, I’m just hungry.”

Bluebell looked sheepishly at the doctor, suddenly catching herself and being hit by a tsunami of self-consciousness. Her head tilted down in guilt and her feet shuffled.

“Oh god, girl…” Doctor Karagounis said, hugging her patient affectionately. Bluebell leaned in, her head not quite high enough to lean on the doctor’s shoulder. And she just stayed there for a bit, taking in the comfort.

“God, I wish you were gay” Bluebell joked.

“Haha, I’m way too old for you. You’re…”

“Young enough to be your daughter… yeah, yeah, I know. Actually, on Pornhub, incest is a popular genre so maybe it’s not that unreasonable…”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, sister stuff and, like, step-mom porn is one of the more popular”

“I had no idea” the doctor laughed, taking another drag.

“Yeah, people are fucked up”

“It’ll be the whole taboo aspect. I minored in Psychology. Wanted to be a criminologist at one point, but the tracks changed lanes and… Anyway, people find doing things that are quote/unquote ‘naughty’ to be intoxicating. They’re not fucked up, or we’re all fucked up maybe”

“I’m definitely fucked up” Bluebell said, pretending to be joking but also writhing in self-pity.

“No, you’re not. It does sound like you have an ED. And maybe depression. These all treatable though. You can get through this” the doctor reassured.

“Yeah, like you know what this feel like(!)” Bluebell said, impulsively reacting defensively again.

“Oh. Is that right? You don’t think I can’t relate to anything you’ve said?” Doctor Karagounis said, stubbing out her cigarette and now folding her arms in an authoritarian pose. Bluebell didn’t know what to say.

“I dunno…”

“Look, you keep asking about me and Wallace? Well, the truth is… we don’t even sleep together any more. I’m in the spare room. For about 3 months now”

“Oh, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s…” the doctor stiffened her back to repress the tears. “...fine. It’s been on the cards for years. I… cheated on him. 8 years ago, so it should be ancient history. But it isn’t. Somehow. We… never speak about it. But, it was at that part that we stopped loving each other. Stopped liking each other, even. He never forgave me, even though he’d say he had. We don’t argue, we just drift further and further apart. And… you mentioned kids. We never had them. Couldn’t have them. The issue was on my side, nothing that could be done. I guess we took these things and allowed them to feed our invisible resentments of one another. So I do understand. I understand depression, because I was depressed at one stage. I understand guilt. I understand the rebellion. The naughtiness. And I definitely know what it’s like to be lonely. To feel unloved. The difference is… that you’re young enough to do something about it”

Bluebell stood motionless. For a good thirty seconds, she just stood there, swallowing all those words and feelings from the doctor. A woman who had been a sounding board for over half an hour for Bluebell had just opened up her own heart and Bluebell didn’t know how to respond. The words weren’t coming, sentences weren’t forming, her lips were just flapping in the breeze.

“If you like… we could get something to eat at some point. If you want some company. I could do with the company. And, we’re not going into Tier 3 until next week. So, coffee somewhere tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry Blooby but I’ll be at work”

“Oh”

“Unless I suspect I’ve come into contact with someone who has COVID. Then I have to self-isolate for 14 days. So no more work for a fortnight”

“Really?”

“I mean, that would be really naughty. Calling in sick when you’re a doctor and you’re in the middle of a pandemic. But… screw it, you’re just a really terrible influence. So yeah, I’ll tell you what, I can pick you up and… oh, you can meet Jezebel. Our latest cat. She’s adorable, the cutest pussy cat you ever did see. You’ve just gotta meet her”

“You’re inviting me round for pussy?”

“-Cat. Pussy cat” the doctor clarified, grinning like she hadn’t done in years.

“Then it’s a date”

“No, not a date either”

“Just pussy then?”

“Just… the cats. To see the cats. God, you are the devil at times Bluebell Thomas”
 

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7 hours ago, xandercroft said:

Kind of don’t like this doctor.  But they have a high rate of burn out and covid IS going to fuck them so...understandable. Bluebell is a bad influence but maybe that’s what we need sometimes. (Maybe 2020 is the bluebells we made along the way...). 

2020 is the Bluebells we made along the way. I don't want any judgement about the bad influences and actions, I want it to feel neutral and natural. Sometimes, a bad influence is what we need.

I found the doctor character quite difficult to write, because every scene we see her in, she acts different. We see as flirtatious, then rewind to professional, then caring, then opening up, then flirting. But she's deffo Bluebell's type. She's alpha, maternal, straight-talking, professional, sharp but has a lot in common with Bluebell. She's a dimmed light that feigns brightness. She's sad, lonely, tired. She misses her hedonistic youth. She carries emotional scars, but represses them. Torn between mature responsibility and saying 'fuck it'. I tried to write her as someone who would like Bluebell and Bluebell would like enough, so that them getting together and cheating on their partners would seem believable. I tried to make each of them exactly what the other was missing in life. Plus... there's always the uniform.

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November*** Part 6


“And this one’s called Aristotle. And this one is Pikachu. And this little fella is right little rascal, aren’t you Mushroom? Yes you are, aren’t you?” Doctor Karagounis said, picking a grey moggy.

“I… like the little one” Bluebell said, summoning enthusiasm for something she cared very little about. She’d slept badly the night before. Excitement. Hope. Yearning. Naughtiness. She couldn’t help but let her mind drift to visiting Doctor Karagounis every time her eyelids fell shut.

The house was nicer than where she and Bosh were living. The walls were white and everything was clean and spacious. Apparently he was an architect who loved art deco. She liked all things rustic and ‘hygge’ but had learned to deal with it. Relationships were, after all, about compromise. Something Bluebell related to, feeling compromised as she was.

“The runt? Yeah, this little kitty is Jezebel. You wanna say hi?” the doctor said, picking the little thing up and pushing her towards Bluebell’s face.

“No, I’m good. I’m… oh” Bluebell found herself given the cat. The scrawny little thing gave a purr as it rubbed its face against Bluebell’s inactive hand, before scurrying off.

“Oh, don’t worry about Jezebel. She’s just a tease. Anyway, how are you today? How’s your back?”

“Better, actually. Didn’t hurt this morning, which was nice” Bluebell said, with some cheer.

“Oh my god, what am I doing? Tea? Do you want tea? Or coffee?” Doctor Karagounis said, springing up from playing with her cats. It was weird for Bluebell to see the doctor with her hair down and wearing jeans. She looked strangely normal. Like, if you walked past her on the street, you wouldn’t think to yourself that she was necessarily a GP.

“Anything stronger?” Bluebell asked, half-joking.

“Black coffee? Yeah, sure. I can’t stand the stuff myself. I’m a tea kinda woman. I’m kinda into green teas at the minute. Have you ever had matcha tea? It’s super good for you and doesn’t even taste disgusting. Well, not that disgusting” the doctor rambled on at her usual rat-a-tat speed.

“You know, losing weight and ‘making healthier life choices’ would be a lot easier if people stopped using healthy as a synonym for disgusting” Bluebell smiled.

“I would agree with you except your drinking coffee, which is also a synonym for disgusting, so your opinion doesn’t count” Doctor Karagounis said, bringing the coffee in, along with her tea and also a packet of biscuits.

“Oooo, chocolate hobnobs are the shit… wait, this isn’t a trap is it? Like a test or anything?” Bluebell suddenly eyed her new friend suspiciously.

“No, you can help yourself. I got them for you, mainly” the doctor smiled kindly, and Bluebell looked suspiciously.

“Really? Fuck yeah!” Bluebell said, jumping into action and taking a handful. The doctor just shook her head.

“So… how are these healthy lifestyle choices going?” the doctor noted archly.

“Wait, was I supposed to have started that already?” Bluebell said, biting into two biscuits at once and then talking with her mouthful.

“I mean… you start when you want to, I guess. Look, this isn’t a doctor’s appointment. I’m not here to take your vitals and give you a prescription and some advice, before sending you on your way”

“So what exactly is this then?” Bluebell said, blowing her hot coffee before taking a swig.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what is this? A social gathering? Are we friends? What is this?”

“Umm… I dunno. Friends, I guess. I mean, you were saying you were lonely, and I was saying I was… I dunno, lonely, a bit, I guess. Why what did you think this was?” she supped her tea elegantly.

“I don’t know. I know what I wanted it to be”

“What’s that?”

“You know what I want it to be”

“Oh. Yeah, that. Sorry, I’m just a bit…”

“Yeah, straight. And I’m too young for you. You’ve already said”

“I am pretty sure I never explicitly said that I was straight” the doctor said.

“Yeah, but you clearly are. I mean, you’re married and…”

“I believe that’s called bi erasure…”

“Well… are you? Bi?”

“Yeah. Just… probably. I mean, is it cliche to say I… explored a different side to myself when I was at university. I feel like that’s cliche. But…”

“When you say ‘explored’?” Bluebell tilted her head in curiosity.

“Just kissing. Not a lot more. It was the 90s. You’re too young but… raves were a thing back then. We had glow sticks and LSD and then making out with whoever happened to be moshing along to Fatboy Slim next to you. Honestly, you kids think you’re so edgy, you have no clue” she giggled. “God, that was a long time ago”.

“Fatboy Slim?”

“Oh, please tell me you’ve heard of Fatboy Slim? Norman Cook? Married Zoe Ball? Do these words mean nothing to you?”

“It’s all Greek to me, I’m afraid”

“Is that because I’m Greek, you making fun of me?”

“You’re Greek?”

“My name is Karagounis”

“I thought that was your husband’s name?”

“Wallace? You thought my husband was a Greek man… called Wallace? No, I kept my own surname. It’s about remembering your roots, your identity. My family moved here from Greece. It’s part of who I am. My parents are proper old school Greek and I’m proud of my heritage. Plus, it gives you great hair. I can’t believe you thought I wasn’t”

“Sorry”

“No, it’s fine. You… you really haven’t heard of Fatboy Slim? Way to make me feel old. You’d know the songs. Trust me”

“How do they go?”

“I… you asking me to sing? Ummm… I mean, they’re not really sing-able…”

“Go on…” Bluebell was smiling now, as the doctor blushed.

“Fine. It… umm… okay, how about… ‘Check it out now, it’s the funk soul brother. Right about now, it’s the funk soul brother’… oh my god, I feel so stupid. Stop laughing, it’s the song. It’s not me! I said they weren’t singable!” the doctor said, before joining in laughing.

“No, it was… interesting. Sounded… profound”

“God, you make me feel old” the doctor laughed. Then, there’s eyes stopped as they looked at each other. The silence got a bit awkward, which caused them to laugh again.

“Also, you did LSD? But you’re a doctor?”

“I wasn’t back then, yeesh. I was a student. You tried stuff like that, back then. I haven’t always been a cat lady you know? I was such a party animal in those days, like you have no idea. Times were had, let me tell you. But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“A party animal? I bet you are, aren’t you?”

“No. I mean, no. I did my bit but… I was more… I hung around with the nerds and metalheads and the ‘alternative’ crew. I mean, we did party and drink and sometimes smoke **, but it was mainly board games and watching shitty old comedies…”

“Oh no! Tell me it isn’t so! Board games? What, like Monopoly?” Doctor Karagounis was shocked and laughing simultaneously.

“No…” Bluebell blushed. “Like Dungeons and Dragons. Settlers of Catan. I dunno, we were nerds… I didn’t know any better. Least I’m not a cat lady!”

“Hey, I’ve partied enough for a lifetime. And D&D? Really? That sounds so cringey…”

“Just… cringe. The phrase is ‘it’s so cringe’. You don’t need to say the ‘ee’ sound on the end”

“I’m pretty sure the term cringey pre-dates cringe”

“You’d know. Cat lady”

“Oh, tell me about it. I don’t know when it happened. Age, Blooby, it’s a tricksy son of a gun. One day you’re shit-faced and making out with some heavily tattooed Slovak in the back of your best friend’s Volvo when you should be preparing for the exam tomorrow, next thing you know, you’re sleeping in separate beds from your husband and your house is a cat sanctuary. I tell you what, Wallace won’t be back for ages. How about I show you how we used to do it…” the doc smiled, grabbing her phone and opening the Youtube app. She typed in ‘Fatboy slim Rockerfeller Skank’ and pressed play.

“Oh, shall we get drinks in?” Bluebell perked up.

“It’s 10:30 in the morning, Blooby?”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot about your age, it’s fine, I…”

“Oh, I see. It’s like that, is it? Fine, I might have some vodka back from New Year. Vodka doesn’t go off, does it? I’m sure it’ll be fine. How does vodka and coke sound?”

“Better than this song. What is this crap?”

“Okay, you don’t like this one? What about…” and she typed in ‘Praise you fatboy slim’ and played the first video that came up. “Now, try telling me this one is crap”.

The doctor came into the room with two vodka cokes and bopping her head to the piano intro of the song.

“I’m just gonna pop out for a smoke if that’s…”

“Oh, but you’ll miss the song?”

“It’s… fine. But can I smoke in here? I mean, it’s not like you can smell it over the cat litter”

“Is it bad?”

“It’s… not un-fragrant” Bluebell smiled.

“Well, in that case, why not? In fact, if we’re being naughty…”

“I love the way you call it ‘naughty’...”

“I’ll have one too”

“Oooo… rebel” Bluebell said, offering her one.

“I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

“Doc, what’s the point of living if you don’t regret anything?”

“I am beginning to suspect that you’re a bad influence, Bluebell Thomas”

“I’ve been told that before. Now, I’m gonna make some more vodka cokes, but this time I’m not gonna make them a proper strength. And you order us some breakfast. I think Dominos deliver 24-7 so should be good…”

And the refrain of ‘Praise you’ came out tinnily from the doc’s phone speakers as the two girls giggled. “We’ve come a long, long way together, through the bad times and the good, I have to celebrate you baby, I have to praise you like I should’.
 

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November 2020***

Part 7


“So, the heavily tattooed Slovak in the back of the Volvo. A he or a she?” Bluebell said as she chewed on her Hawaiian. The two girls were lying on the rug in the middle of the panelled floor, facing each other.

“She” the doctor said smugly. “Jelena. Absolute monster. She had tattoos and piercings in places I didn’t know they did them”.

“And did you…”

“Have sex? No. Not… I mean, we were handsy, I guess. Tactile, in a… bodily sense. But I don’t think you’d call it ‘sex’ per se. I mean, you gotta remember this was more than 20 years ago” the doctor replied, chewing on her four-cheese pizza.

“And? What did you think?”

“I mean… it’s… different. To a man. I mean, it was less… y’know, and more… y’know

“Oh, I know. I know. It’s awesome isn’t it? My first time. With a woman. Bosh, actually. It was less… A to B. It was less about the destination and more about the journey, if that makes sense?”

“Yeah, it makes sense”

“And Wallace? Is he A to B or is he…”

“Neither. Nothing. We don’t. Years, it’s been. And I’m only telling you this by the way, because I think the vodka’s having an effect”

“Oh, so have you hit… y’know… the menopause?”

“You have no idea about how the menopause works, do you?”

“I mean… I think I have the basics down. But not all of us are the wrong side of 40”

“Who said my side is the wrong side, you cheeky whipper-snapper? Anyway, less about me. What about you? How come you only tell me about this Bosh girl?”

“Only girl I’ve been with. I… I didn’t know I was gay. I kinda suspected I wasn’t straight. But… I mean, I remember at one point, proudly telling my friends I was ace” Bluebell remembered.

“You’re not that good”

“Ace means… asexual”

“I know, I was… it was a joke. But I know what asexual is. We get training on these things at work. I’m down with the LGBTIQA+ community. I’ve done pride marches in my time” the doctor smugly replied. The doctor seemed to get smug when she drank.

“So, yeah. I was ace. I mean, there was kinda an expectation that you were something. Being straight was just so cringe. The sexuality equivalent of beige. Leticia was demi-sexual, and I thought maybe that was it too”

“Demi-sexual? Does that mean you fancy Hercules?”

“Turns out I was just a boring lesbian” Bluebell shrugged.

“You are many things Blooby, but you are not boring”

“Is this just the vodka talking again?” and the two looked at each other. They both started laughing again.

“Maybe” the teacher smiled flirtatiously. “Maybe I just want to feel loved again”

“Fuck” Bluebell caught herself blushing. “Anyway, aren’t I too young for you, didn’t you say?”

“Actually, I said I was too old for you. I don’t remember saying you were too young”

“Don’t I get to decide if you are too old?”

“Are you… flirting with your GP, Bluebell Thomas?”

“I dunno, are you flirting with your patient, Dr Callista Karagounis?”

“Fuck. I think this is gonna happen” the doctor almost winced with the realisation. It had dawned on her that she had made her mind up. She finished her vodka coke, a Bluebell-strengthed one at that, and exhaled, steeling herself for what was about to come next.

“Oh. Um… cool?”

Bluebell suddenly found herself nervous. Genuinely nervous. When it was only a fantasy, a sliver of wish-fulfillment, it seemed exciting. But now she was staring at it coldly in the face, all she felt was nerves. The doctor also looked apprehensive, but with a bit more stony resilience about her.

“Okay, if we're doing this, we're doing it right. We need to establish rules..."

"...Kay?"

"Rule 1 - no biting”

“No biting?”

“Yeah, biting, hickies, that kinda thing. It’ll bruise and if he sees it and asks…”

“Oh, okay. Sure. No biting”

“Rule 2 - this is a one-off. This has to be a one-off. I can’t afford to do this. This is a… I just can’t, okay?”

“Sure, that’s fine”

“Rule 3 - I… haven’t really thought of a rule three yet. Gimme a sec... oh, I know, I’ve thought of one. How about you use this as a springboard for healthier lifestyle choices? Please. For me?”

“I guess, yeah. For you”

“Well, in that case…”

And, for the first time in nearly two years, Bluebell didn’t finish her pizza. And, instead, she felt loved.
 

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