should see a doctor.
But Miss Thinne knew that her metamorphosis was meant to be.
Miss Fatt knew it too, and took no action, apart from exercise and (lately) a girdle.
‘D’you think Mel Gibson likes ’em that big?’ joked Mr Carp, only trying to be nice. He thought that she was perhaps overeating out of nerves at the prospect of the imminent movie role. As for her television assignment playing the girlfriend (or possibly wife) of the criminal, that had come and gone, and Miss Fatt had received high praise for her performance. The director had been delighted, actually, that she was so much more curvaceous than she’d been at the audition. ‘Good slattern potential,’ he’d pronounced, and ordered a teddy for her, presumably from that shelf in the wardrobe department marked VOLUPTUOUS SLATTERN . But he’d said it in the nicest possible way, as a professional director to a professional actress.
Of course, this was a couple of weeks ago now, and she had gained more weight since then. A punishing regime of jogging and press-ups waged a losing battle against the six square meals a day with which she was covering her former shape with soft new flesh.
‘My God you eat a lot,’ said her actor friend one day. His perfect failure to understand excited a small flame of contempt in her, and she looked at him condescendingly, as if to say, But of course I do – what else would you expect?
Fourth Month
On the 25th of July Miss Thinne began her day by bringing a tray of food in to Miss Fatt. She herself took small bites of a Chinese lettuce as Miss Fatt devoured pancakes with jam, fried eggs and bacon, Welsh rarebit and a bowl of custard. Miss Fatt was eating perhaps even more now that she was miserable, for she had lost her chance to play the sexy, sinister villainess in Lethal Weapon VI . A week away from shooting, the casting director had caught sight of her new shape and immediately cancelled her contract, employing in her place another slender young woman with long legs, big breasts and a face like Marilyn Monroe’s.
Friends advised her to sue, but in their heart of hearts they thought she had only a dubious moral right to win.
‘Are you all right?’ they asked her, meaningfully.
Since then, Miss Fatt had been playing sexy overweight women in commercials. The directors were just as pleasant as ever, but Carp and Bravitt tried to point out to her, in a subtle way, that she couldn’t reasonably expect their firm to secure as many assignments for her as before.
‘The use for big women in advertisements is limited, Suzie. You’ve either got to lose some weight, or do some serious thinking.’
‘Serious thinking?’
‘You could give up being sexy altogether. I could put you down in the books as a “housewife and mother” type. You know the kind of thing: sensible perm, cheap floral dress, spreading margarine on the kids’ sandwiches with a goldensunny halo all around you … Chucking dirty clothes into a washing machine to a choreographed dance routine … Can you still dance, love?’
‘No,’ sighed Miss Fatt ‘Not really.’
‘Well,’ said Carp, a shadow of distaste crossing his face. ‘Think it over anyway. But, you know, the best thing to do would be to lose weight.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ promised Miss Fatt, but she knew that eating less was out of the question, and it was getting more difficult to exercise, what with the bulging belly and the expanding bosom. Her actor friend had broken off with her just at the point where she was seriously considering going to bed with him; the reason he gave was that he couldn’t afford to refill his refrigerator several times a week. This was the first unkind word uttered to Miss Fatt since the change in her condition had begun.
The first unkind word uttered to Miss Thinne came soon after, when one of the elderly ladies whose malnutrition she was trying to correct pushed a plate of food away and jeered, ‘Who are you to say I don’t eat
But Miss Thinne knew that her metamorphosis was meant to be.
Miss Fatt knew it too, and took no action, apart from exercise and (lately) a girdle.
‘D’you think Mel Gibson likes ’em that big?’ joked Mr Carp, only trying to be nice. He thought that she was perhaps overeating out of nerves at the prospect of the imminent movie role. As for her television assignment playing the girlfriend (or possibly wife) of the criminal, that had come and gone, and Miss Fatt had received high praise for her performance. The director had been delighted, actually, that she was so much more curvaceous than she’d been at the audition. ‘Good slattern potential,’ he’d pronounced, and ordered a teddy for her, presumably from that shelf in the wardrobe department marked VOLUPTUOUS SLATTERN . But he’d said it in the nicest possible way, as a professional director to a professional actress.
Of course, this was a couple of weeks ago now, and she had gained more weight since then. A punishing regime of jogging and press-ups waged a losing battle against the six square meals a day with which she was covering her former shape with soft new flesh.
‘My God you eat a lot,’ said her actor friend one day. His perfect failure to understand excited a small flame of contempt in her, and she looked at him condescendingly, as if to say, But of course I do – what else would you expect?
Fourth Month
On the 25th of July Miss Thinne began her day by bringing a tray of food in to Miss Fatt. She herself took small bites of a Chinese lettuce as Miss Fatt devoured pancakes with jam, fried eggs and bacon, Welsh rarebit and a bowl of custard. Miss Fatt was eating perhaps even more now that she was miserable, for she had lost her chance to play the sexy, sinister villainess in Lethal Weapon VI . A week away from shooting, the casting director had caught sight of her new shape and immediately cancelled her contract, employing in her place another slender young woman with long legs, big breasts and a face like Marilyn Monroe’s.
Friends advised her to sue, but in their heart of hearts they thought she had only a dubious moral right to win.
‘Are you all right?’ they asked her, meaningfully.
Since then, Miss Fatt had been playing sexy overweight women in commercials. The directors were just as pleasant as ever, but Carp and Bravitt tried to point out to her, in a subtle way, that she couldn’t reasonably expect their firm to secure as many assignments for her as before.
‘The use for big women in advertisements is limited, Suzie. You’ve either got to lose some weight, or do some serious thinking.’
‘Serious thinking?’
‘You could give up being sexy altogether. I could put you down in the books as a “housewife and mother” type. You know the kind of thing: sensible perm, cheap floral dress, spreading margarine on the kids’ sandwiches with a goldensunny halo all around you … Chucking dirty clothes into a washing machine to a choreographed dance routine … Can you still dance, love?’
‘No,’ sighed Miss Fatt ‘Not really.’
‘Well,’ said Carp, a shadow of distaste crossing his face. ‘Think it over anyway. But, you know, the best thing to do would be to lose weight.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ promised Miss Fatt, but she knew that eating less was out of the question, and it was getting more difficult to exercise, what with the bulging belly and the expanding bosom. Her actor friend had broken off with her just at the point where she was seriously considering going to bed with him; the reason he gave was that he couldn’t afford to refill his refrigerator several times a week. This was the first unkind word uttered to Miss Fatt since the change in her condition had begun.
The first unkind word uttered to Miss Thinne came soon after, when one of the elderly ladies whose malnutrition she was trying to correct pushed a plate of food away and jeered, ‘Who are you to say I don’t eat
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