The Stepmother by Carrie Adams Page A

can’t find something for you no one can. End of discussion.”
    I bit my lip and savored the taste of blood.
    â€œCome on, Mummy. We had a picnic in the car. It’ll be fun,” said Lulu. “She’ll make you look like a princess too.”
    I smiled at my middle daughter and was thankful that my children, at least, did not see what I could no longer deny. Their mother had let herself go. Sally might be the best but even the best wasn’t going to be good enough.
    â€œHave you all chosen?” I said to the girls. Maddy and Lulu held on to their dresses like life rafts. Amber was wearing the red dress, but kept looking longingly at the blue. Not the blue, please, not the blue. Suddenly, Sally appeared through the curtain carrying four dresses of different lengths, color, and fabric. My chest constricted. “Why don’t we take yours to the counter to wrap them up and give your mama a little space?” she said to the girls.
    â€œWill you do a parade, Mummy?” asked Maddy. “We’ll sit on the sofa outside and give you marks out of ten.”
    My heart thudded. I knew she meant the dresses, but it didn’t feel that way. I could see three solemn faces holding up placards. Fat. Fatter. Fattest.
    â€œWhen we’ve packed everything up,” said Sally.
    â€œWhich one are you taking, Amber?” asked my mother, as if she were talking to an equal, not an impressionable, malleable, easily wounded fourteen-year-old.
    Amber looked at Sally. “Well, you look wonderful in the blue, there’s no doubt of that.” My heart sank as Amber beamed. “But,” Sally continued, “I think you should choose the red and I shall tell you why. You cannot wear underwear with the blue. That’s fine in here. It’s warm and you’re standing still. But what about dancing, jumping up and down?” Amber didn’t understand what Sally was implying. So Sally glanced down at her chest.
    Amber reddened. The thought of unwanted attention to her not-yet-womanly womanly bits made her feel self-conscious. Not a bad thing right now. Vanity lost. For today. Amber chose the red.
    As they filed out, I almost went with them, but Sally turned, stopped me, and drew the curtain in my face. I was left to face my demons alone. I had been avoiding my own reflection in the mirrors. Hard, since they were on three walls and angled at the corner to give you a perfect surround-sound view—but I had been good for five days, I was feeling a million times better, maybe I would be pleasantly surprised.
    Feeling brave, I peeled off my awful stretchy black trousers and polo-neck. I threw my Gap T-shirt onto the pile and stared at the beige carpet. I took a deep breath and raised my head to see the new me. Immediately, I knew it was a mistake. I grabbed a dress from the rack and held it in front of me, but it was too late. I had seen myself, a mass army of myselves, waiting for battle. I was outnumbered by infinity to one. I was surrounded.
    I held up the dress in surrender and let it fall to the floor. What beast is this? What sad, fat, ugly cow stared back at me? Five days hadn’t made a dent. Nor would fifty. I didn’t think five hundred could…I rapidly fell from whatever false peak I had been standing on as the first tremor of panic hit me like a breaker, winding me. I let out short, staccato breaths. I had no idea what invisible force had hit me so hard, and I looked around, frightened, searching the cubicle for my assailant. Turned out the assailant was me. Daring to look back at myself from the angle-poised mirror, I saw with every rutted pocket of fat how my bottom had bled into the back of my thighs. Who are you? What are you doing here? Boom. The air left me again. Scared, I pinched my sagging flesh hard until the pain made me inhale again. I held on to the wall. Something strange was erupting inside me, but I could not look away. A mottled sack of skin hung over