Oh huzzah, we’re interacting! I’m really into interacting with strangers these days, even if these strangershappen to be rude teen boys. And I am fascinated by the eclectic group on board this slow boat. We’re all going to spend two days together – stopping halfway up the Mekong river to stay at a hotel overnight – and I’m dying to get everyone’s life story. I love a life story.
‘Hello Jan,’ she says enthusiastically. ‘I am Clara, that is Alice, and the pregnant one over there is Eva.’ Eva looksa bit put out by the dismissive description. We’ve only been together a few days out here, but already I’ve noticed how much you become only One Thing to people when you are pregnant. It’s all anyone’s talked to her about. It’s truly strange. People touch her without permission and give her unsolicited advice about breastfeeding. She’s already been told off multiple times by strangers for travellingabroad in her ‘condition’. She has to keep explaining that her doctor said it was fine. It’s been a bit tortured and I can really, totally see why she’s having a life crisis and wanted to escape. But when it’s your literal stomach causing the issue, it is a little bit impossible to get away.
I wave over at Jan and Jakub, adding, ‘Nice to meet you! Where are you lads from?’
‘Warsaw,’ Jansays, ‘but we are moving to Spain soon, where all the sexy ladies live.’
I choose not to take offence at this and continue, ‘Oh, how very exciting for you. Are you at school at the moment?’
He shakes his head, irritated. ‘We have left school – we are eighteen years old – and we are now training to be body builders. We are going to be big men. Then we move to Spain.’
I try not to react.Jan is very small and thin. I have not come into much close contact with body builders but he doesn’t strike me as the right ... shape.
The silence has gone on too long and he continues a little defensively. ‘I am currently on theGOMADprotocol. I will soon be twice the size of this.’
‘Um, what is theGOMADprotocol?’ Eva says politely, looking alarmed.
‘It is milk,’ he says, lookingat her like she is stupid. ‘You drink a gallon of milk every day.’
‘Are you serious?’ I say before I can stop myself. ‘Agallon of milk?’
He nodsself-importantly. ‘Everyone on the internet is doing it, you look it up. It is tricky because I am lactose intolerant but it will be worth it when I am big and all the sexy girls are sexing me.’
‘You are lactose intolerant but you drink agallon of milkevery day?’ I say slowly, trying not to let the incredulity too much into my voice.
He nods again. ‘Yes, this is right. So I am spending a lot of time on the toilet, but yes, worth it.’
Cor.
Imagine being so obsessed with your weight that you’ll voluntarily spend all day, every day, on the loo, liquid pouring out of your bum.
Wow. This man knows what it’s like tobe a woman.
I mean, I don’t care that much about my weight – definitely notGOMADlevels – but I’d be lying if I said the messaging doesn’t get to me on some level. More so in my teens and early twenties, for sure. But no lie, I think every woman out there has had, like, at least alow-key eating disorder at some point in her life.
Actually, I thought being out here travelling aroundstrangers on beaches would bring that fear out in me more, but actually it’s had the opposite effect. Having my fleshy, dimply body out on display as often as possible has made me care less. You get used to the sight of yourself, don’t you? Your body normalises in your eyes, because you can’t spend all your time hating on yourself. Not all your time. It’s too tiring, and there are too many other thingsaround to distract you from theself-loathing. You put it out there enough and you realise people don’treallycare. Your previously hated body becomes fine at long last, and that is such a joy and such a relief. And then maybe – after your shape normalises in your brain – maybe you even start tolikeit. Then – a long time after that – maybe, just maybe, you reach a point where you stop feelingashamed – stop thinking that you are wrong and disgusting – for seeing your body as quite nice. It’s a process. I’m working towards it.
I hope poor old Jan will get there one day, too.
‘That does not sound healthy,’ Clara says loudly and Jan shrugs.
‘It will be worth it,’ he says again. ‘When I am drowning in the pussy.’
‘Garfield,’ Clara mutters and we make eye contact.
The frightened family sitting between us clear their throat.
‘Shall we move up so you can all sit together?’ says the dad and we ignore the blatant irritation in his voice as we nod happily and shuffle around.
‘Come on Eva!’ I say loudly, gesturing at her to come join us, which she does sheepishly, apologising to the group who have to move up on her side.
‘Thanks everyone!’ I saygrinning and they smile begrudgingly back.
In the mess of seating rearrangement, Jan has managed to position himself between me and Clara, and he now turns his back on me to trap my young friend into conversation.
I catch her eye over his thin shoulders to ask – with my eyebrows – if she needs help. To my surprise she winks back at me, smiling coyly.
She fancies him! Gross. So I guessthe foot stomping wasflirting! How bizarre. But good for the pair of them, I suppose?
