The Curvy Girls Club. Michele Gorman
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You’ve seen the news; most people are overweight. It just doesn’t seem like it, looking around. Maybe it’s time to be loud and proud.’
‘The Loud and Proud Club,’ Rob said, raising his glass. ‘You’ll need a name for the website.’
‘The Loud and Proud Club sounds like a gay band,’ Pixie said. ‘What about the Loud Proud Social Club? Then you know what we are.’
‘Now it sounds like a gay social club,’ I said.
‘The Big Girls Social Club?’ Jane proposed.
Ooh, I liked that very much.
‘What about big boys?’ Rob said. ‘Don’t be sexist.’
‘But you’re like a girl,’ Ellie said.
‘Thank you for emasculating me.’
‘I just mean that you’re a friend, like us girls,’ she clarified. ‘What about the Big Boned Social Club?’
‘God, no,’ Pixie winced. ‘That’s what people call you when they think they’re being nice. It makes me think of women shot-putters. Besides, not everyone who’s fat is big-boned. Some of us are just curvy.’
‘The Curvy Girls Club?’ Jane proposed.
A tremor of enthusiasm coursed through me. The Curvy Girls Club. That was it. ‘I love it!’
‘Me too!’
‘But it’s not just for women, right?’ Ellie asked, glancing quickly at Rob.
‘No way, everyone is welcome,’ Jane said. ‘That’s the whole point.’
‘Do we need to account for that in the title, then?’ I asked.
Pixie laughed. ‘Katie, you’re in sales. Since when are you worried about a little thing like accuracy?’ She thought for a moment. ‘We can put a little asterisk in the title and add a disclaimer in tiny writing at the bottom, like they do with payday loans and volumising mascara.’
‘Problem solved then,’ I said. ‘We’re the Wonga of social clubs. Rob, you’ll join us, right?’
He grinned. ‘Sure. Only I probably won’t tell people I’m a member of the Curvy Girls Club. Maybe the CGC. That sounds much manlier.’
Jane lifted her drink. ‘To the Curvy Girls Club.’
‘Asterisk … and men!’ said Rob.
We all raised our glasses to our new club. I hadn’t been so excited since my Rory days, and this didn’t even involve the potential for sex.
My friends placed great trust in me and once we were officially a club, the planning seemed doubly important. Besides, Rob made good on his threat and created a website that would feature our nights out. Plus, everyone who’d gone to the salsa lesson wanted to know what was next. So no pressure then.
Luckily I talked on the phone for a living, so nobody noticed the dozens of calls I made to help figure out whether events and venues would be suitable for our members. It took a lot longer than I imagined but by the end of the week we’d added half a dozen events to the website and Facebook page.
Funny how quickly perspectives can change. It was probably a similar feeling to that experienced by the newly engaged or pregnant, who suddenly notice things like bridal shops and stretch-mark creams for the first time. Those were still off my radar but every theatre marquee, restaurant review and band poster sparked my interest. I went to bed each night thinking about possible events. And I awoke every morning with excitement gently fizzing in my tummy.
The next few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of activity. One minute we were dancing salsa with friends, the next we were organising nights out for more than fifty people, and getting bollocked for not doing enough. Speaking for myself, anyway.
‘I did try to book,’ said the woman with her arms crossed over her ample bosom as we waited for Pam to start the Slimming Zone meeting. She was acting like I’d purposely kept her from seeing Jersey Boys with us. ‘I got an error message saying that it was sold out.’
I could tell from the consternation lining her over-tanned face that she wasn’t going to let it go. I tried again. ‘I’m really sorry. We’ve been getting a lot of interest in the theatre. If you try booking a bit earlier next time …’
‘I know some people are bringing their friends. That’s why there wasn’t room for me. That’s not right when I’m a member here.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said again. ‘But the events aren’t just for Slimming Zone members. In fact we don’t have members. They’re for anyone who wants to come.’
Her sense of entitlement really pissed me off. The Curvy Girls Club was ours. She was lucky we’d opened it up to other people at all.
I looked across the room at Jane and Ellie as they laughed with a group of women who’d come with us to Kew Gardens last weekend. Jane was awkwardly accepting a compliment on the club’s behalf. So how did I end up as head of the Complaints Department?
‘Excuse me a minute,’ I said to the whinger, cutting her off mid-indignation. ‘I think Jane wants a word with me.’
‘Fiona was just telling us about a Thames river cruise,’ she said when I approached. ‘Some of the boats have Dixieland jazz bands. Doesn’t that sound fun?’ I hadn’t seen Jane so animated in a long time. She’d even abandoned her needles and yarn for this conversation.
I nodded, already thinking about the questions I’d ask the organisers – how big are the life jackets? Are there many steps? Will people be helped onto/off the boat? I could make a few calls tomorrow morning before my review.
Finally Pam rapped her hand on the table, dragging our attention away from boats and bands. ‘I know everyone is excited, but can we please start the meeting? Who’d like to come up and pop on the scales?’
A few of the women made their way to the front. Ellie and I hung about at the back as usual.
‘Jane, I figured you’d run up there tonight,’ I said when she made no move. ‘Aren’t you curious to know how much you’ve crapped out this week?’
She shook her head. ‘I know the answer. It’s zero pounds. I stopped the pills.’
‘Good!’ Ellie and I said together.
‘You don’t need them. Tell her, Rob,’ Ellie said as he joined us.
‘Tell her what?’ He shrugged out of his heavy wool coat.
‘Tell Jane she doesn’t need diet pills.’
‘But I do need them,’ she said. ‘I just can’t stand the side effects any more. I’ll think of something else. What?’ she demanded when I rolled my eyes.
I did love her but sometimes I wanted to shake her. ‘Why don’t you try changing your mind set instead of your waistline? That seems healthier to me.’
‘What should I do, Katie? Tell me, please. Should I just give up and grow into a huge blob that Andy will eventually have to winch out of bed?’
‘God, you can be dramatic sometimes. You know you could stop starving yourself and going on these crazy diets without turning into a blob. You eat healthily most of the time. You do exercise. I just think we should all stop beating ourselves up because we’re not models.’
‘Katie’s right,’ said Ellie. ‘I’ve been thinking about what Pixie said. If I’m honest I’m tired of always worrying about my weight. These last couple of months have … I don’t know, they’ve made me see things a little differently.’
‘Me too,’ I said. ‘Isn’t it more