In the summer 2001 my mother frogmarched me to the doctors for a suspected eating disorder. I’d simply limited my Hob Nob intake and developed a small obsession with the gym (for a very good reason). My doctor suggested my mum keep an eye on me and that I begin a food journal. Well, this all seemed rather boring and unnecessary to me, however it did inspire me, in my teenage self-indulgent state, to start penning a normal diary, I am after all one of the Dawson’s Creek generation and that’s precisely the sort of thing those jumped up tossers did. Around about this time it had dawned on me I was still a virgin and shortly after that epiphany the unimaginable horror that was 9/11 happened. I remember feeling both hugely saddened but selfishly really scared. Nothing of this scale had ever happened in my lifetime before. This fear was not helped by the Daily Mail and Sophia in Spanish class constantly scare-mongering. So combine my poor performance in the de flowering race with the all-consuming fear that we were going to be blown up at any moment and you have a girl on a mission to get that cherry well and truly popped! But I wasn’t settling for some teenage lad from the boys school down the road, oh no! I had my sights set on a poor personal trainer who I’d lied to about my age… It thankfully never happened and as I’ve decided to share with you over the coming weeks my hideous diary entries, covering my pursuit of FPTT, my actual virginity loss and escaping to London you’ll soon learn why…
This cringe-inducing extract is from a period in my life when I realised I’d been so focused on my career as a dancer/actress (that couldn’t sing… I was breaking the mould), I had fallen behind in the fingering, tossing off and all important virginity loss race that my friends had been fervently pursuing with much conviction for the past few years. A race I’d happily been a spectator of, not literally I hasten to add. I just witnessed the relief/disappointment of my friends the day after, content in the knowledge that my time would come, and it would be perfect and most likely with an A-list actor (ideally Leonardo DiCaprio) as I had pinned my hopes on becoming an actress, so naturally, it would be an Oscar nominee who was to pop my cherry, or a star on the rise at the very least. Slowly, however, it dawned on me that all my drama classes and dance lessons meant I’d missed numerous parties and drunken nights in the park (prime sexual fumbling opportunities apparently) and a slight niggle that I was falling enormously behind started keeping me up at night.
28th September 2001 (Glorious day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Went to the gym tonight and for the first sixteen minutes on the cross trainer (180 calories burnt) I couldn’t see fit personal trainer Tim anywhere which pissed me off because I’d put on my new Bourjous eyeshadow (the one I nicked from Boots with Zoe) and my Nike sports bra on, it’s pink and quite low cut and my boobs (now they’re getting bigger cause mums making me eat loads again – bitch) look good in it. I’m making Mum drop me off at Sainsbury’s now to avoid embarrassment. She won’t let me get the bus as she doesn’t believe I’ll go, however it does mean I save on bus fare which equals fag money. Then I saw him out the corner of my eye and started to go really fast so it looked like I’d been working hard all along. This backfired when he eventually came over to talk to me as I couldn’t slow down. Anyway he asked for my number!!!!!!! Which must mean he really likes me cause Erica told me personal trainers aren’t allowed to ask for the numbers of non clients! He asked me how my driving lessons were going… I hate lying to him, mainly because I don’t know much about driving and it could blow my cover, revealing my true age.
I’ve decided he will definitely be the one I will lose my v to. I don’t fancy anyone my age and Carly says losing it is better with an older man, especially if they have a car and Tim has a Nissan Sunny (red) so it’s perfect. Maybe we will do it in his car? I will have to put him off till I’m 16 though… I’ll just say it’s for religious reasons or that I’m giving it up for charity.
It’s times like these I feel crap being the only one who hasn’t been fingered, but I’ve decided that’s probably cause I’m always at dance class when everyone else is busy being fingered. Mum arrived early so I had to rush off but managed to burn off my Ryvita and apple so feel better. I’m glad Tim’s come along cause it takes my mind off terrorist attacks… And if we do all get bombed at least I won’t die a virgin. Tim is so fit… Made Mum stop at Somerfields on the way home and bought More Magazine. Lots of headlines about England being next. Position of the fortnight looks really awkward but need all the tips I can get… Will also ask Erica too. Elle magazine says I should wax, I agree as shaving is very schoolgirl and I’m meant to be 18. Got asked for ID so had to steal two fags for tomorrow.
Managed to avoid dinner cause Mum was on the phone for hours, although I think I should enjoy food again as this war on terror could mean we have to ration… Tomorrow night I’m going round Carly’s with Chelsea and Zoe (for sex tips) and we’ve decided to only listen to garage music when were drinking cause last time we were drunk we listened to Dido and ended up talking about depressing things. Will keep you posted about fit personal trainer Tim (FPTT).
P.S Have decided to wear my diamanté Reebok Classics next time I go to the gym even though they are my dressy ones.
