ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
I am 21 years old and have just graduated from Glasgow Caledonian University with an honours degree in Marketing and Communication. What I really want to do though is write, that has been my lifelong dream. I am the kind of person who could happily spend my entire life sitting at a computer, writing story after story - of course, that doesn't mean they'll be any good, but practice makes perfect. . .supposedly. I would appreciate any feedback and criticism regarding this story, its not as if I'm going to see any of you face to face! [July 2001]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (12) A Sinner (Short Stories) Janey feels smothered by the man in her life. Will He ever relinquish His hold on her? [1,432 words] Almost There (Short Stories) An engaged girl runs into an old crush who once humiliated her, and is horrified to find herself still in lust with him. [2,520 words] Crushed (Short Stories) The story of how a fulfilled crush doesn't necessarily make you happier. [2,005 words] Cybertalk (Short Stories) Cassie, 20 years old and desperate for love, meets a guy on a chatroom who almost instantly claims to love her. Is he insane??? [4,606 words] Cyn (Short Stories) Is Cynthia really cheating on Jerry? And, if she is, what is he going to do about it? [2,479 words] Don't Bank On It (Short Stories) This is the story of how a petty argument can develop into a full-scale war, when it comes to couples living together! And then this silly squabble is put into perspective when the couple involved fin... [3,766 words] His And Hers (Short Stories) The story of a girl and guy on the same course at university. They think that they hate each other - but is hate really the emotion they feel? [2,765 words] Letting Go (Short Stories) A guy who has broke up with his girlfriend is writing her a letter to explain his actions. [1,264 words] Night Of Living Hell (Short Stories) This is a story I wrote a couple of years ago about a girl who is waiting outside the cinema for her date, and wondering if he is ever going to turn up. [1,227 words] Please Sir (Short Stories) This is the first three chapters of a story I am trying to write, a sort of bonkbuster-cum-comedy about a gilr who seduces her English teacher. Note: As I am British, my spelling, grammar and dress ... [12,851 words] Smothered (Short Stories) The story of a girl who drives away men without meaning to. Will she ever find true love? [3,970 words] [Romance] Splitting (Short Stories) When Anna's boyfriend decides to break up with her, Anna is the one who ends up laughing. [1,001 words]
Image Obsessed Paula M Shackleford
April 8th 2001
11.18am
That's it! I'm officially sick of looking like Luciano Pavarotti's (slightly thinner, infinitely less hairy, tone deaf and female) twin. For once I decided to forsake my usual quick efficient shower in favour of a luxurious bath. Big mistake. Made the mistake of looking at my stomach - put it this way, the Michelin Man would look at me in disgust and lecture me on the benefits of healthy eating. I was too depressed to even hop on the scales - it's one of those speaking ones and I live in terror that it's going to say "One at a time please" when I stand on it. Anyway, can't seriously see myself "hopping" at the moment, I can barely reach for the remote control without getting out of breath. But I'm not going to the gym - I'd have to lose at least a stone before I had the nerve to don workout clothes and set foot in a place sure to be packed with potential Baywatch extras. Of course, that seems kind of pointless, sort of like cleaning your house BEFORE your cleaner arrives - which, incidentally, I do on a regular basis. Don’t want her to think I actually NEED her services!
2.01pm
Must remember never to watch MTV when feeling depressed about my weight. Turned it on to only to be faced with thousands of Britney and Christina clones, all flowing blonde hair, perfect skin and tinier waists than Scarlet O'Hara. AND they can sing! Life is so unfair! I briefly entertain myself with the thought that the designer belts looped nonchalantly around their hips would probably not even stretch around my waist. In fact, do I even have a waist? Think I'll go and check - in fact, maybe I should unearth the tape measurer and note my vital statistics. Isn't that supposed to be a better way of gauging how overweight you are?
2.24pm
My waist is 80 inches! How can that be? Think I'm having a panic attack.
2.39pm
Phew! Panic over. Just phoned Chloe for help (although the only help I need right now is a pin stuck in my stomach - maybe that could deflate it like a punctured tyre). She started laughing.
"Try looking at the other side of the tape. You've been looking at the centimetre side."
Momentarily relieved, until I realise that my waist is still at least 3 inches larger than it was last time I measured it. The fact that the last measuring session was over five years ago is irrelevant. I always vowed my weight wouldn't increase with my age. Yet another resolution I have broken.
There's only one thing for it. Must burn more calories than I consume. This means total starvation and over-exercise.
Chloe finds that notion hilarious. "Yeah right, cos you could give up food," she sniggers.
"I'm great at abstinence," I sniff.
"We're talking about food here, not sex." (Oh that's really catty - remind me about my involuntary celibacy. That really helps my self-esteem!) "Come off it, you supposedly gave up chocolate for Lent - you lasted one day!"
"You'll see." I toss my head haughtily, then realise I'm on the phone. "You'll eat your words when I look like Jennifer Aniston, only skinnier."
Her only reply to this is a skeptical snort, so I slam the phone down on her.
4.05pm
Thank goodness for home exercise equipment. My face is purple, my body dripping in sweat, and I appear to have lost the ability to breathe. And I was only on the exercise bike for ten minutes.
And I am starving. There’s a packet of Jaffa Cakes sitting on the kitchen table, clearly visible from where I’m collapsed in the living room. Am I hallucinating or are they FLIRTTING with me? “You want us, you KNOW you want us,” they’re telling me, winking and wriggling seductively in front of my eyes.
It’s official. I’m going insane.
4.11pm
One won’t hurt, surely. There’s only like 50 calories in one biscuit. One biscuit will give me some more energy, then I can exercise some more. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do, I’ll have one biscuit. Just the one, mind.
4.30pm
There’s about 400 calories in a full packet. I know because I ate every one of those calories.
I hate myself.
4.40pm
Realisation has dawned - I’m clearly not meant to be skinny. And by trying to conform to the notion of “slimness” I am simply giving into manipulation from the media (and from men, of course) that I have to be slim to be beautiful. But I’m going to change all that. I’m going to be a representative for the REAL women. We’re NOT built like stick insects, we DON’T eat nothing but lettuce leaves, we DON’T live in the gym. We have better things to do with our lives, like LIVE them.
Now, where did I put those Easter Eggs I bought for my niece and nephew?
After all, I need to practice what I preach, don’t I?
READER'S REVIEWS (1) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"i was attracted by the "Bridget Jones" in the description. Yes, this is a diary but more a diary of a day. I think the humour in B.J. worked as it was the background to a plot that was based on her relationships. Maybe building the exercise bike experience would give the piece more depth.Hope this helps. " -- Wendy, Kent, UK.
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