The trouble withRose was that she was too fat. Much too fat. Enormously so.
It's not that shehadn't attempted to lose weight; she had. She had tried everydiet ever invented. She had been on the F Plan, the Q Plan, the SPlan, the T Plan - the entire alphabet. All she gained was animprovement in her spelling. And more weight. The Cambridge Dietwas followed by the Oxford Diet; then came London, closelyfollowed by Bristol, until eventually she had dieteticallyexplored the entire map of Britain. Her slimming regimes thenbecame cosmopolitan and her next port of call was the CaliforniaDiet, finding no decrease in her girth there she traveled on toLos Angeles, New York and Pennsylvania. America exhausted, androtund as before, Rose went further abroad and visited the HongKong Diet, the Japanese Diet, the Australian and JohannesburgDiets, she even suffered a month of the Moscow Diet (beetroot andred cabbage for every meal, which made her complexion very rosybut did nothing for her size). Rose became an expert ingeography, yet still her bathroom scales groaned whenever sheapproached them.
Her house was averitable library of books, guides, magazines and periodicalsdevoted to the science of slimming, all rooms were stacked highwith them and the floorboards creaked and bowed under theirweight almost as much as they did under that of Rose. Shehungrily scoured the shiny pages of each new publication anddevoured the news of every latest wonder cure. She tasted eachand every miracle drug, potion, pill and elixir that came ontothe market, but still she expanded. She had been a member ofevery slimmer's club from Slimmers United to Diets 'R' Us andbeen dishonorably discharged from all of them as a lost cause anda dangerous publicity risk. The slimming industry's coffers grewfatter through Rose; Rose just grew fatter.
The only avenuesRose refused to go down were the unthinkable surgical ones thatled to jaw-wiring, stomach-stitching and other such extreme andpainful procedures. She had a fear amounting to phobia of doctorsand their sharp implements, and though she was desperate to dosomething, almost anything, about her burgeoning bulk; she wasnot so desperate. There had to be another way, an easier way, ofshedding her more than excess pounds, and so her quest for theperfect panacea continued.
The problem was,Rose liked food, lots of it. More than that it was a comfort toher; she found solace in it. When she looked in her mirror andsaw her ever-expanding girth reflected back to her, the ripplingrolls of flesh, mountainous stomach and pendulous, swollenbreasts, when she heard the sniggers and cruel jibes of thepeople she waddled past in the street, then she became sodispirited, disgusted and depressed that she took refuge in food.
It was a viciouscircle.
Though she adheredrigidly to each new reduction programme, steadfastly enduringwhatever privation it forced upon her, there always came a timewhen the lure of cream cakes, puddings and chips became toopowerful to ignore. Then she would gorge herself.
It was as if shehad to make up for lost time.
Abandoned was thecounting of calorific content as she consumed whole gateaux atone sitting, followed closely by Everests of mashed potatoesflowing with rivers of thick gravy rounded off by large tubs ofice cream. Bacon sandwiches by the dozen, bread by the loaf,chocolates by the pound, sausage by the link, biscuits by thepacket and box, family size pizzas and pies, triplecheeseburgers, trays of buns and pastries, oceans of custard andcream ... all were merely snacks to her. When Rose indulged herpassion for food she took no half-measures.
The fatter she got,the more she ate; the more she ate, the fatter she got.
Her binging andgluttony then continued until Rose became so overwhelmed by guiltshe ashamedly embarked once more upon whatever new slimmingcampaign had caught her eye, promising herself that this time shewould follow it religiously and obediently. Until ...
So the circleturned.
The crunch camewhen Rose decided to treat herself to a new dress. Deep down sheknew it was a mistake from the beginning, for the window in whichthe dress was displayed was that of a modern boutique, not thatof the outsize shop where she normally clothed herself. But thebrightly coloured garment shouted to her, she just had to have itand, besides, she desperately needed to cheer herself up.
After many minutesspent agonising with herself outside, she timidly stepped intothe shop with the air of someone visiting a strange country forthe first time. Trying very hard to ignore the smirks of theyoung assistants, Rose squeezed herself through the racks oftrendy attire until she came to one bearing a row of the desireddresses. Almost furtively, she rummaged along the rack until shefound the largest one. Optimistically she held it against herself.Maybe, just maybe, she could get into it.
Casting her eyesaround the shop, she spied the changing cubicles and headed intheir direction clutching her prize.
Now, the cubicleswere never designed for someone of Rose's proportions and it wasonly by taking a very deep breath and entering sideways that shewas able to get through the door of one. Inside, the space was soconfined she barely had room to move. Somehow, with much puffing,panting, and constant prodding in the back by the clothes hookson one wall, she managed to remove her own, tent-like, dress. Itwas then that she discovered the hook upon which she had hung the(she was by now beginning to admit to herself) impossibly-smalldress she had so foolishly lusted after was empty. In herstruggle to disrobe, it had fallen to the floor.
To the waif-likethings for whom the cubicle was intended this would have posed noproblem, one had simply to stoop down and pick it up. Rose,however, was many inches from being waif-like; she had littleenough freedom to turn about in the cramped compartment.Cautiously avoiding the deadly hooks, she attempted to ease herbody downwards while at the same time bending at the waist. Itwas no good; the dress was just out of her reach. She had to bendfurther. Pressing her face against one wall and her buttocksagainst the opposite one, she slowly straightened her legs sothat her rear slid up the wall and her upper body inched down. Bytwisting her shoulder and stretching her arm to its fullestextent she was at last able to grasp the offending dress.
With a sob ofrelief and a vow to replace the by now hated dress on its rack,leave the shop and never return, Rose tried to straighten up. Shecouldn't.
She wasinextricably and immovably wedged.
Panic swept overher, she had visions of being trapped in the claustrophobiccubicle forever. In desperation, she cried out. Luckily, at thatmoment an assistant was on her way to see if she needed any helpand heard her cry. Tentatively opening the cubicle door, thedumbfounded assistant was confronted by the grotesque sight of anenormously fat undie-clad woman, her body weirdly contorted,crammed into the tiny space like a very large sardine in a verysmall tin.
When she recoveredfrom the fit of laughter that overcame her, the assistant triedvaliantly to extricate poor Rose. Though she tugged and pulled,the assistant was a mere slip of a thing not designed for sucharduous effort and so she had to call for help. More assistantsjoined the struggle, then the manager and several customers, allheaving, levering, wrenching and straining between bouts ofuncontrollable giggling. All to no avail. The by now bitterlyweeping and deeply shamed Rose was solidly jammed.
A conference wascalled and it was decided professional help was required. Thefire brigade was sent for. This redoubtable force of men wereunperturbed by the spectacle they encountered when they arrivedon the scene, they had seen it all before, though one red-facedraw recruit had to be excused when he became overcome withembarrassment at being given the task of prying Rose's over-generousbuttocks from their lodging.
At last, thoughonly after the entire cubicle had been completely dismantled,Rose was freed. Wrapped in a large blanket, she was driven homein the fire engine, which caused her added embarrassment when sheobserved the frantic twitching of her neighbour's curtains uponarriving there. Refusing the firefighters' offer of an escort toher front door, she hurried into the house and locked the doorbehind her.
Once inside thecomparative spaciousness of her own home, she slumped onto asettee and cried sorrowfully, her folds of flab rippling witheach heavy sob. Physically, apart from several livid bruises, shewas unhurt; it was the mental wounds that bit the deepest. Theshame of it, the indignity, the humiliation. It all came rushingback to her: every insult she had ever endured, every joke at herexpense, every pointing finger.
No more! That wasit! No longer was she going to be a one-woman freak show. She wasgoing to find a diet that worked and stick to it like glue. Shewould show them, all the skinny people with their laughing faces;she would show them. But perhaps not today, tomorrow would bebetter; just at that moment she needed the solace of an extralarge plate of chips with perhaps half-a-dozen eggs, and didn'tshe have a large chocolate cake put by for emergencies?
Later, with severalempty plates congealing around her, she settled down with thelatest issue of a slimming magazine. There was nothing much inthe glossy pages, nothing she hadn't tried before, no new wonderdiet that would wipe out her problems at a stroke. It was as shewas dejectedly scanning the classified advertisements at the backof the magazine, a section she did not usually bother with, thatshe saw it. Tucked away in the corner of the page, the answer toher prayers:
Release the thin personinside yourself! How oftenhave you heard that in every fat person there is a thinperson just waiting to escape? It's true! A revolutionarynew dietary process, pioneered by ourselves, will releaseyour thin person! No starving, noexercises, eat all you want. Easily and safely, withinone week, we will make a new person of you! Guaranteed! Phone2068 419934 |
It was what Rosehad been searching for, dreaming of, for all those years. She hadalways maintained to herself that inside all that ugly fat therewas a beautiful slim woman struggling, begging, pleading to getout. Now here was someone promising to do it. And none of thestarving and tiring exercises that so many other diets advocated.Why it even said you could eat all you want! What bliss! Withinone week, though, how was it possible? It was revolutionaryindeed. Something told Rose that here at last was the solution.First thing in the morning, she would call the number.
That night, Rosewent to bed a happier woman than she had been for months. Sheslept soundly, her snores rattling the windows, and got up thenext day with a broad smile. After her usual large breakfast, shedialled the number of the advertisement.
Yes, we can fit youin, said the voice at the other end, in fact we are betweenclients at the immediate moment, if Rose wished, she could comein straight away, she would not need anything for her stay, aseverything was provided.
The extortionatefee that was humbly mentioned caused Rose to pause a moment, butthe voice's silky assurance that she would not be disappointedpersuaded her. She was going to do it. Yes, she would be therewithin the hour.
The address towhich Rose had been directed was not as prepossessing as she hadexpected when she arrived at its door. She had imagined a swish,modern clinic, all gleaming white tiles and abstract paintings.Instead, she found herself at a rather dingy semi-detached housein a far from select area. However, she had committed herself,she was going to go ahead with this, no matter what, she wouldshow all those grinning shop assistants.
Having rappedresolutely on the door, she was admitted by the owner of thevoice on the telephone, a somewhat gaunt, rather severe, thoughattractive tall middle-aged woman of imposing bearing. The woman,who introduced herself with a strong handshake as Mrs Henderson,quite overawed Rose and she felt a little child-like andvulnerable as she was escorted into a sparsely furnished office.
There, on a tablewas a tray containing a large plateful of very tempting cakes andbiscuits, alongside a china teapot. The display of such delightsimmediately relaxed Rose, who had begun to feel distinctlynervous in the company of this powerful woman who seemed to bethe sole member of staff. Having instructed Rose to help herselfto anything she liked, an offer she could not resist, MrsHenderson poured a large cup of tea. The tea, Mrs Hendersonexplained, was of her own concoction, it was made from rare herbsand she was certain Rose would find it acceptable. Rose lookeddubiously at the strangely coloured, oddly smelling liquid,reluctant to drink it, but the other woman was staring at her sointently with her forceful, almost hypnotic, eyes that shesomehow lost the will to decline. As it turned out, the tea wassurprisingly pleasant and, though it made Rose feel slightlywoozy, she sipped greedily; besides, it nicely washed down thegigantic bun oozing with cream she was currently consuming.
While Rose was thusengaged, Mrs Henderson explained the details of the revolutionarynew diet she was there to take part in. The explanation was fullof technical jargon such as 'calorific superincumbence','physical overbountification' and 'cataclysmic systemdisburdenment', none of which Rose comprehended - neither did shecare. Rose did not care about anything anymore. By this time, shecared only about food. She was ravenous. She could not understandit; despite the enormous breakfast she had put away a short timebefore, her stomach felt like a vast, yawning cavern that had tobe filled at all costs. In addition, her head felt strange, as ifit did not belong to her. It was not an unpleasant sensation; infact, it felt rather nice. It was as if her mind had been emptiedof all its worries and concerns, as if it had been washed clean.
Mrs Henderson'svoice, as she continued her explanation, was the most soothingsound Rose had ever heard, it lapped over her like waves on theshore, calming, soothing, sapping her will. All she wanted to dowas agree to anything it said; that and voraciously eat from theplate in front of her and drink from the cup of tasty herbal teathat Mrs Henderson kept refilling.
Rose somehowabsorbed that the essence of the diet consisted of a form ofaversion therapy, involving the use of the herbal tea, whichcomprised the chief cost of the treatment. The herbs concerned,she was told, were extremely scarce and highly expensive. Thisled to the final formality: the signing of the cheque. At thisjuncture, Rose would have meekly signed away her life's income,so compliant had she become; her only concern in the world wasthe aching emptiness of her stomach.
The preliminariescompleted, Mrs Henderson then conducted Rose to the treatmentroom to begin the diet. Like an oversized lamb, Rose, munchingfuriously on the last cake from the plate, followed the tallwoman down a corridor to a spacious room. The room was empty offurniture except for a large chair and an equally large table,both strongly constructed. The walls were tiled from top tobottom, as was the floor, around the sides of which ran a gutter,which led to a drain in one corner. There were no windows andthere was a sharp, antiseptic smell, as if the room had recentlybeen thoroughly cleaned.
It was the contentsof the table that most attracted Rose's attention. Its surfacewas piled high with the most mouth-watering food she had everseen. Joints of meat, whole hams, fish, bread, cheeses, pies,pastries, puddings, cakes, buns, doughnuts, trifles, blancmanges- everything and more that Rose had ever dreamed of. Without anyurging from Mrs Henderson, she went straight to the table andbegan to feast. She could not help herself; she just had to fillthe rumbling, echoing emptiness inside. Seated on the chair, asucculent leg of pork in one hand and a chocolate éclair in theother, she barely noticed Mrs Henderson leave the room and lockthe door behind her.
It was as if themore she ate, the hungrier she became. She attacked the tablelike a starving animal, stuffing her mouth with whatever she gother hands on first. She could not stop. Hardly pausing to chew,she crammed more and more down herself. Still the hunger pangsassailed her. Still she gorged.
Some two hourslater, the table's contents almost depleted and Rose's appetitestill not assuaged, the door opened and Mrs Henderson enteredwheeling a large trolley overflowing with yet more food.Alongside the steaming plates of chips, baked potatoes, furtherjoints of meat and cakes was a large urn of the herbal tea, ofwhich she poured a large cup and pressed on Rose. Rose needed nosecond bidding; she had been craving more of the delectableinfusion for some time now. Draining the cup, her hunger suddenlymagnified, she pounced on the fresh supply of food almost asquickly as Mrs Henderson could unload it onto the table. Thetrolley emptied, the tall woman again left the room locking thedoor behind her.
Thus, a routine wasestablished. Every few hours Mrs Henderson would enter the roombearing the trolley burdened with further provisions. Each timeshe would also bring the urn and proffer Rose more herbal tea.After each visit Rose would be as famished as ever. Vaguely, Roseassociated her condition with the consumption of the tea but paidlittle heed; she had greater concerns: that of filling the craterof her stomach.
Time passed, Rosemay have slept, but she did not recall doing so. Her entire beingwas governed by eating, by the periodic replenishment of thetable and the regular doses of herbal tea. She was dully awarethat, though she was constantly putting vast quantities insideherself, none of the resultant waste was being evacuated. She wasalso aware that she was growing bigger. Somewhere in a corner ofher mind, a question niggled at her: if this was a diet, why wasshe getting fatter?
For fatter she wascertainly getting. After what she guessed to be two days, herbelly had enlarged so much it now rested on her lap, obscuringher knees. Her dress had long since split at the sides from thestrain and hung uselessly from her. Eventually, she threw it toone side along with her modesty as the strips of useless materialgot in the way when she reached for more food. Her underwear toowas now stretched as far as the elastic would allow and she knewthat soon she would have to abandon that also.
Another day went by.Still Rose banqueted. Still she swelled and grew. Now naked, thechair upon which she sat, though large, was dwarfed under her.Great rolls of flab overhung its sides, her legs were so vast shecould not close them; her stomach was like a barrage balloonresting upon them. By the next day, her arms were too heavy tolift and Mrs Henderson stayed in the room with Rose and passedthe food to her, only leaving her to ferry more provisions in.Come the next day, and Mrs Henderson was shovelling food intoRose's mouth; she had become so engorged she was unable to moveat all.
When the sixth daydawned, any resemblance between Rose and a human being was gone.She was almost entirely an immense, bloated ball of stomach withvestigial limbs. By then, Mrs Henderson had resorted toliquidising her food in a large blender and feeding the resultantpuree into Rose through a funnel inserted into her mouth. Thiscould not continue for too much longer; Rose had a lot of fleshand skin, but it could only stretch so far.
It had now reachedits limit.
As Mrs Hendersonpoured ever more liquefied mush into her, things started tohappen to Rose's swollen bulk. There was a burbling, rumblingsound from deep down inside Rose, which grew louder and louder,like the noise of a geyser about to erupt. Louder the bubblingnoise grew, and Mrs Henderson hurriedly removed the funnel fromRose. Pushing the trolley, the tall woman rushed from the room,closing the door behind her as the air was filled with gaseousgurgling, rending and tearing.
From the safety ofthe other side of the door, Mrs Henderson stood in the corridorand listened to the mounting cacophony issuing from the room.Counting to herself, she reached five and there then came amassive liquid explosion that shook the door followed by wetslaps like the sound of moist sponges being thrown at the walls.
After a judiciousamount of time, Mrs Henderson, with a satisfied smile on hergaunt face, opened the door and entered the room. The walls,ceiling and floor were splattered with large globules of pinkfat; a viscous, red fluid slowly ran down the tiles, into thegutter and glugged down the drain and a thick, rancid odourfilled the air. Plenty of material there for the next batch oftea, thought Mrs Henderson happily as she turned to the chair.Seated there, blinking dazedly like a newborn, the same liquiddripping off her, sat a beautiful, sylph-like, perfectlyproportioned woman. Slim and trim as a model, she could havegraced the cover of any fashion magazine.
Mrs Hendersonsmiled benignly at the exquisite figure on the chair. She hadfulfilled her promise: she had released the thin woman insideRose.
