Slimmer for Christmas. (Flash fiction)

Slimmer for Christmas.

Samantha rammed another Malteser into her mouth and pouted like an insolent child. She’d watched the ‘Davina Work-Out’ DVD three times this week and nothing had happened yet. No thinner. Bubble-wrap arse and crimpolene thighs still intact – and only three weeks to Christmas! Yes – of course she knew she had to actually DO the exercises but she thought it was so important to KNOW the routine before she tried it out. A pre-warm-up warm-up. Yes, she thought, don’t want to end up with an injury or anything… She kicked her brand new trainers off and threw her legs up on the soft leather sofa. Her living room floor was littered with Weightwatchers magazines, leaflets and scrunched-up empty Malteser packets. She looked down at them with contempt, twirling a lock of shimmery black hair round her index finger.

Yesterday’s meeting had been a nightmare. Not only had she put on three pounds but the class leader had gone on and on about the perils of butter. Buttered toast, butter on scones, cooking with butter and now all she could think about was butter!  She’d never wanted butter so much in her life. She was in a large lardy labyrinth and couldn’t get out. She shoved two Maltesters into her gob and crunched down hard, letting them crumble and dissolve into a lovely messy mix of chocolate and buttery malt… Oh God! Stop thinking about butter! She thought. She wondered how many class members would secretly be sniffing packs of butter in the fridge at Tesco whilst reaching out for the low fat spread. She giggled at the thought.

At least she wasn’t alone. There were at least ten other heifers like herself in the class who could be relied on not to stick to a diet of lettuce and air. Last week, Linda had come back from an all-inclusive holiday to Turkey and had put on ten pounds. The screen had flashed red on the computerised scales saying ‘EXCESSIVE WEIGHT GAIN’, matching Linda’s flashing red cheeks.

‘Bloody cocktails that was!’ she’d exclaimed.

Samantha had nodded, imagining Linda belly-sliding along the dessert buffet bar, mouth agape swallowing food like a basking shark. She smiled as she remembered how Linda must be having the same butter cravings because when the meeting was over she’d said,

‘Hope I do butter next week!’

No one had corrected her. Samantha popped another three Maltesers into her mouth whilst watching Davina vigorously star jumping on the TV. Must buy a sports bra before tackling that one, she thought. Yes, definitely need to make sure I have the right equipment – can’t be star jumping with my voluptuous bosom, don’t want to get an injury or anything!

She wondered if Barbara had a sports bra. Barbara was always bragging about taking on new and more adventurous fitness regimes. She goes way beyond most of the class’s neurotic desire to lose weight. Everyone succumbs to the pre-class routine of emptying their bowels, bladder – even blowing their noses to make sure every ounce possible is ejected from their being before getting on the scales – but in the privacy of their own homes.  Barbara literally runs from the leisure centre loos to the scale before any scrape of water retention or bodily fluid can creep on to her body. She even cut her dense ginger frizzy hair one week to help her beat the scales – it must have weighed at least a pound. It was as if her battle was with the scales and not her own obesity. Every week she lost weight, she revelled in her victory looking down at the scales with a smug vengeance.  If she could, she’d get on the scales wearing a paper thong and nipple tassels to be the lowest possible weight she could be. Actually, sink plungers would be more appropriate for covering her modesty on those bazooka boobs, Samantha thought. She imagined the class leader telling Barbara she’d lost half a pound and Barbara pirouetting off the scales, plungers sweeping like Samurai swords. She’s only fooling herself, Samantha thought. Not like me, who is actually doing something about losing weight – getting a Davina Work-Out DVD and reading the class magazines etc. She nodded at her epiphany and grabbed the remote, shoving the last three Maltesers nto the side of her cheek, letting the chocolate go soft and warm. I wonder is Eastenders on yet, she thought.