Fat.

This is a monolgue I wrote for a friend. Sounds a bit Vicky Pollard...

When I were a kid it were like dead easy to be pretty. Brush me hair, put on a pretty dress. Look at me now! It’s such a fucking effort! Need new clothes, need makeup and hair-dye. Loreal Elvive, Maybelline, Clearasil by the bucket. My skin should shimmer with a youthful glow, but it don’t. Looks like a fucking cheese grater. And there’s fat on me hips. I’m subsiding like I’m forty. And me tits are barely there. Look at them! I mean seriously. Look at them. You can’t, can ya? I’ve got lumps in the wrong places and I try to make meself sick and I can’t even do that right. I just gag and bring up some Monster Munch. It would be OK if I could just suck in me tummy all day, but I can’t. I’ll have to get a corset. And a tummy tuck. And a boob job. And while I’m at it I’ll get me eyes fixed too. And me nose has a hump, can you see it? And do you not think I look a bit like a furby?

I’ve got hair everywhere! Serious like! I knew it would grow in some places, like you know, by me smooch, but I shave more than me brother. And me eyebrows are like dead bushy if I don’t tweeze. Holly Roberts tweezes her whole eyebrows off and then draws ‘em back on wi’ pencil and she always looks dead surprised. And she really likes swimming and they wash off in’t swimming pool and she don’t realise. And she’s got hairy armpits too! I saw ‘em in’t changing rooms. It were disgusting. And Jenny Phillips smells like BO and Jane Terry smells like fish. Told her she needed some Femme Fresh and she ‘it me with her gym bag.

I wanna look like Paris Hilton. Or Keira fucking Knightley, not Michelle Heaton. I know she’s lost loadsa weight, but she’s still a fat cow. I’m afraid if I don’t lose weight now me skin’ll be all stretched like those women on Extreme Makeover. Gotta eat right. Gotta eat me fruit. I’ll ‘ave an apple and a banana after me Double Decker and pack of Quavers. Had some Nice ‘n Spicy Nik Naks earlier. And the Monster Munch… I’ll cancel it out by havin’ a satsuma. Shazia says all she ever eats is fruit though and she’s dead chunky and got spots all over her face. Told her once that a Chocolate Orange don’t count. She told me to piss off. I said “Shazia, I’m just trying to ‘elp.” She told me I looked like a trollop and said I should listen to me own advice. I were like “Whatever” and she were like “bitch” and I were like “slag”. But she’s still dead fat. Maybe it’s glandular.

Bought a pair o’ jeans last week. Suck in me bum so it’s tiny. Holly Roberts wears trousers for eight year olds. She’s dead proud of it like, but she’s got the chest of an eight year old too so it don’t bother me. But everyone else has got much bigger boobs than me. They’re like a pair o’ fried eggs. And no boys look at me. Serious like. Jamie Smith, who’s like well the fittest in my year, don’t even know my name. Called me Claire. Who the fuck is Claire? If I had bigger tits I bet he’d be like clawing at me knickers and I’d be like “I’m waiting till I get married” and he’d be like “Yeah whatever” and then I’d let ‘im finger me behind the Science block and if he’s lucky give ‘im an ‘and shandy; suck it a bit. But ‘e only ‘as eyes for Danielle Marchant and she’s a right skanky ho, but ‘as enormous tits. Serious, it’s like she’s ‘avin’ two chest babies. Heard she gave ‘er dog a blow job though, so I don’t give a shit bout ‘er. Filthy bitch.

In sex education lessons they teach us we should learn to respect ourselves and others. Well look at me, ‘ow am I supposed to love this body? Mum says me skin’ll clear up when I’m twenty but this lady ‘elps out in me Maths class and she’s twenty-eight and she looks blotchy as fuck. She’s well spotty! I’m never gonna look like Paris. I can’t even drown me sorrows in booze. And now I gotta be eighteen for fags? Like ‘ow am I supposed to smoke now? Seriously? It’s like the whole bloody world is against young people; government, God. ‘Ow am I supposed to turn into ‘t well rounded individual? ‘Ow does anyone? Jus’ look at me. I look like a fuckin’ car crash.