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 that I begin a food journal. Well, this all seemed rather boring and unnecessary to me, however it did inspire me, 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. 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! I’ve decided to share with you over the coming weeks my hideous diary entries…
Monday 15th October
My head has cleared a little today and I realised in biology class I must come up with a plan to avoid Tim at all costs! This would be easy if my dance class hadn’t been moved to his new place of bloody work! I spent the whole of P.E (Netball) discussing how I was gonna recover from Saturday night with Chelsea, which annoyed the other girls who was made their annoyance clear by throwing balls at our heads.
But as I was sat in the nurses office (I’ve worked out head injuries usually get about 25 minutes off the next class) I began to think… He didn’t tell me to fuck off… Maybe I still have a chance… Maybe I should text again? So I did!!!! Just a casual “Hey! Did I ring you the other night? I rang everyone! How’s you?”
I managed to get the rest of the afternoon off (cause of the head injury) and to wait for his reply. Chelsea also had a head injury so she came back and we ate tuna pasta (cause I managed to get a run in twice yesterday) and an entire bag of mini Milky Ways (because we both did P.E). She waited until I’d eaten to tell me that Nicole from geography got fingered on Saturday! I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend!!! I didn’t even think she’d kissed anyone! But no, apparently she’s been fingered and she tossed him off AND he’s an older man! He’s at bloody college! She’s basically stolen my life! And what’s worse she smells of cheese! She smells of cheese and gets to touch a willy. I smell of Tommy Hilfiger and get to touch myself cause I’m a loner.
By this point I was really depressed so me and Chels watched the Dawson’s Creek where Pacey goes to pick up Andie up after she’s been hospitalised cause it makes us both cry. Then, because he still hadn’t replied, we watched American Pie.
I didn’t check my phone for the entire film but even when I did (5.10pm) he had still not replied! I don’t understand, I’d been so cool and fun in my last message – I’d made fun of myself, surely he now knows I was only joking! (I wasn’t but if I’m gonna trick him into taking my virginity he needs to think I don’t care). Maybe this is a good thing? I wouldn’t be able to do it with him properly till February (when I turn 16) anyways so we’d only really be able to do fingering/tossing off/blow jobs and oral for me me till then anyway and I imagine getting through Christmas without having sex is pretty difficult, especially with all the mistletoe around.
The only solution now is to make him forget all about it and all about me until I’m a mature 16 year old, able to do it every which way anywhere we like. Zoe came round and agreed that was best but reminded me I still need to avoid him at dance. Once they left I spent 50 minutes on the stepper thing for my bum and brainstormed.
This is what I’ve come up with so fair by brainstorming…
- Dye my hair black
- Get some coloured contacts
- Either gain or lose weight so from behind he will never know
- Wear a red wig?
- Suggest a new costume where we wear masks therefore have to rehearse in masks.
- Shave my head
Go back to my original desired career path and become a Nun. Then I wouldn’t be allowed to even think about fingering.
