The Curvy Girls Club. Michele Gorman
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‘So you’re just going to give up, slob out and embrace your inner fattie?’ Jane asked, jutting out her chin. ‘That’s irresponsible. You have to take responsibility for your size, Katie … it’s lazy.’
Her judgement hurt. It wasn’t a surprising message – I’d heard it my whole life in one form or another, often as friendly advice, sometimes as a hostile declaration – but it still hurt. As if I hadn’t sadly wondered myself how it had come to this. A pound here, an extra few inches there. Over the years, gradual changes became the new norm. Who amongst us hadn’t grabbed handfuls of tummy just to feel its squidgy bulk? Or shimmied naked in the mirror to watch the seismic shifts happening below her waistline? I just didn’t want to let that define me any more.
‘I’m not saying I’m going to totally slob out, Jane. I’m just saying that while we may not be perfect, none of us is getting bigger, right? We packed these pounds on years ago, and we’re still punishing ourselves for them. You wouldn’t still blame Andy or the children for something they did years ago, would you?’
‘Of course not,’ Jane said.
‘Then why do you keep blaming yourself? We do eat a balanced diet and exercise and do all the things we’re supposed to. Our lifestyles are healthy now. We should respect ourselves as much as we do other people.’
The fight left Jane. ‘I do try.’
Ellie hugged her. ‘I know you do. But cutting three and a half thousand calories out of our diets just to lose a pound is hard! Katie is right. We need to stop beating ourselves up for what we aren’t doing and be happy with what we are.’
I drew myself up in my chair. ‘I’m quitting Slimming Zone. I joined to learn how to be healthier and to find support. Well, now I know how to be healthy, and you give me all the support I could ever want. And lately when we’re out together, I have so much fun that I don’t even think about my weight. I feel … well, not pretty, exactly. But normal. I don’t need to come to these meetings any more … and if you think about it, you might realise that you don’t either.’
I watched their faces for a reaction. Jane was the first to speak. ‘I can’t promise that I’ll ever love my fat, but I’m willing to try.’ Her hands reached for her knitting. ‘On one condition. The Curvy Girls Club has to continue. I’ve been happier these last few months than I have been for years.’
‘Me too,’ Ellie said. ‘And I do think we’re ready to go it alone. Together, I mean, but not here. What do you think, Jane?’
She smiled. ‘Well, it’ll be no fun coming here without you lot. And what Katie says is true … so yes, I’m ready. Besides, it’s not like we don’t all have scales at home.’
‘You’re missing the point a bit though, Jane,’ I said. ‘We’ve got to learn to be happy as we are instead of constantly worrying about how we’d like to be. That’s what I’m going to do from now on.’
Rob grinned at me. ‘Promise?’
‘I promise,’ I said. ‘What about you? Want to quit with us?’
He shrugged. ‘I only come here for the women anyway. And I think it’s safe to say that the club will keep going, Jane, at least if demand is any factor. Take a guess at how many unique views you’ve had on the website and blog.’
We all shrugged. I had no idea what a good number might be.
‘You’re averaging nearly three hundred a week.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means you’d better get some more events lined up. Your club is starting to get very popular.’
Two years earlier, when Nutritious pared back the whole company’s hours to four days a week, there was very little silver lining in that ominous thundercloud. But the company needed to save a lot of money or we wouldn’t have had any chance of keeping our jobs, and in the middle of a recession nobody felt much like arguing above a disgruntled whisper.
It didn’t actually have much of an impact on us salespeople, since most of our pay cheques came from commissions. So we just squeezed a bit more work into the remaining four days to keep the clients happy, and once again the company got more work out of us for less money.
Ellie survived a month of Jeremy Kyle before getting herself work at the café around the corner on her day off. She preferred getting paid to serve the down-and-outs to watching them for free on TV. Besides, she didn’t have sales commissions like the rest of us, so the cut in hours hurt.
I shared neither her urge to work nor her aversion to daytime telly, which, as the club business accelerated, was turning out to be a good thing. I started splitting my Tuesdays between the equally important tasks of napping, watching old films and club business. Invariably, though, I still had to make some calls from the office.
I’d just hung up with the river cruise people when Alex appeared beside my desk. ‘I’ve got something for you. Want to grab a coffee before my next meeting?’
Of course I did. Despite all my unsubtle hints, we hadn’t been to lunch again. Still, there was no doubt we were on more familiar terrain now.
‘I’ll need some caffeine,’ I said. ‘I’ve got my appraisal this afternoon.’
I was willing to make an exception to my no-caffeine rule to get me through that meeting.
When it came to my comfort and enjoyment, reviews were on par with smear tests. True, no tears had been shed during them in the entire six years I’d worked at Nutritious. Yet no matter how hard I worked, I’d never been more than Adequate. Five grades to choose from and my boss always put me in the middle. What kind of motivation was that? Adequate was a nice way of saying meh. It was so-so, a verbal shrug. They claimed it meant I was doing everything I was supposed to. It meant they had no complaints. Was it any wonder I always walked away with a sense of disappointment?
But today I was going to make my stand (not my normal modus operandi). I knew I was better than adequate. I just had to grow the meatballs to tell Cressida why.
Alex made me wait until our steaming takeaway cups were in hand before pulling a small white envelope from his jacket pocket.
Inside were two tickets for the orchestra at the weekend. ‘Wow, thank you!’
‘You mentioned that you like classical music, and there were some extra tickets going, so I thought …’ He grinned, watching my expression.
‘I’d love to, thanks!’ I nearly dropped my coffee as I lunged to hug him. It was an unusual feeling, and, being honest, slightly awkward. ‘I had no idea you liked the symphony. You never said.’ I added that to the list of his perfect man credentials.
‘That’s because I can’t stand it. I’d lose the will to live halfway through the performance. I thought you and Ellie could go. Like I said, we’ve got the extra tickets so someone may as well use them.’
Then this wasn’t a date. It was a nice gesture from a work colleague. ‘Well, thanks very much, I’m sure she’d love to. Really, this is very kind of you.’ I kept my voice bright to hide the disappointment that suddenly hit me.
How much longer was I prepared to let this stupid crush go on? Snap out of it, Katie. Perhaps it was time to heed six years of evidence that he’s not into you.
I’d got some perspective again by the time we reached the office. Alex had, after all, remembered that I liked classical music. And he had thought to give me the tickets. Those were the actions of a friend. So he wasn’t interested in me romantically. I could live with that. I had lived with that for over half a decade. And we were friends, of a sort. No, I wouldn’t call him to discuss weekend plans (although this was mainly because I didn’t have his phone number, not because I exercised any restraint), but we were friendly. It was time I let that be enough.
The office kitchen was abuzz an hour later when I went in