A Spare Part

She’s so beautiful. Just look at her. Why does my best friend have to be so damn pretty? Come to think of it, why do all my mates have to be so stunning? It pisses me off, it really does. I just look around and feel completely out of my depth. It’s like, why am I here? Really? I need ugly friends, I really do. You see, that way, I look prettier in comparison. It’s all logical if you think about it.
I played tennis last night. Felt like I was going to pass out for most of it. I was tired and I was far too hot in my jumper. Couldn’t take it off though could I? couldn’t let them see. Not the best conditions for a tennis lesson but I wanted to go. Keep fit and all that. The people there annoy me though. They never concentrate on the game. All Laura ever talks about is her boyfriend. Seriously, why does she think I care? That’s why I like playing with Paul. He doesn’t talk much but he’s really good. Keeps me moving, on my toes. I like that.

I went out for lunch with my parents this weekend. Not the most thrilling of experiences. Both parents seem on a constant diet and looking at the menu consists of, “Oh that’s got cream in, can’t have that. A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.” So embarrassing! I mean, if you’re going to pick apart the menu, at least do it quietly. I had spaghetti. Didn’t want a starter. Wasn’t that hungry. Couldn’t eat most of the meal. I felt really sick afterwards. Must have been something I ate.
Saw Jason again today. He’s still acting all weird. I mean, this time last year, he couldn’t keep his eyes off me. But now, he doesn’t even text me. When I see him, it’s like nothing’s changed but then……nothing. Funny thing is, I really like him now. Then, I wasn’t sure but, the more I see him, the more I fall for him. Quite ironic really. My friends can’t understand. My mum does the typical, “If he’s acting like that, he’s not worth it,” speech. She tries, but she just doesn’t get it. I do. I was different then and he liked me like that. Not now though. I’ve changed and ruined it. It’s all my fault and only I can sort it out.

I have officially decided that, this holiday, I have gotten fat. My friends deny it, but I know they’re just being nice. My mum tells me that I have put on weight, but that it suits me. I know that’s a lie. I mean, you see it on the news all the time. Stories about obesity levels and overweight kids. I’ll be joining them soon if I don’t watch it. My dad says I just have to eat healthily and do more exercise. As if I don’t know that already.

Why am I the only one who gets spots? Why? My annoyingly gorgeous friends never get them of course. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hannah with anything less than perfect skin. She complains about things, but I know it’s just to make me feel better. Claire is the same. And Zoë. Not a blemish on any of them. It’s like being on the set of Britain’s Next top Model.
We met some new lads at school today. Sixth form. They just walked up to us and started talking. The tall one asked Zoë for her number. The two blonde ones cornered Claire and Hannah and they were giggling and tossing their impossibly glossy hair. Nobody came up to me. None of the guys even noticed me. I was just left standing there. The spare part. Looking like a bloody idiot as usual. It’s not surprising though. It’s my own fault. I’m the only one who can do something about it.

Why can’t I do it? Why is it everyone else can be beautiful except me? I went shopping with Claire. Her dress was a size four. Four! I tried on one dress but put it back. I hate being so fat. I wish I could just cut it all out. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! I hate myself.

“Stop doing this to me! Please stop it!”
Doctors never listen. They don’t care what I want. They’ve got me hooked up to God-knows-what and they’re pumping calories into me. They’re undoing all my hard work. They’re making me fat again.
My mum found me. I’d passed out in my room. Just collapsed. I woke up to her shouting, “Sophie! For God’s sake Sophie, wake up!” And then, I ended up here. She said later that she’d noticed things. How I always said that I wasn’t hungry, that I’d had a big lunch. How, when I did eat a lot, I’d always run straight to the bathroom afterwards. I thought it was easier that way. Eating kept her off my back, but I had to get rid of it afterwards. I couldn’t keep all of that fat inside me. She might have noticed these things, but she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like to never measure up. Being a size six in a size four world just isn’t good enough.
She’d noticed the shirts as well. The Jumpers. The long-sleeves. Didn’t put two and two together though. I guess she just didn’t want to think about it. The doctor said I should go to therapy afterwards. He doesn’t understand why I need to do it. Watching the blood on the blade, it makes me feel lighter. Every scar draws my attention away from the real problem. The reason I’m hideous. What does the doctor know? He just wants me to be fat again. Well, that’s never going to happen. I want to be the one that gets noticed, to get chatted up by guys, to make Jason like me again. There’s only one way to do it. I understand that, but they don’t. When I get out of here, I’ll just have to start again, but better this time. This time, I won’t get caught. I’ll be able to hang out with Zoë and Claire and Hannah and not feel like a spare part. Nobody else gets it. It’s the only way. My only chance to be beautiful.