My Dating Disasters Diary (13 page)

Anyway, Mum was quite moved by my show of
affection today, I think, although all she said was, 'Still as
flat as an ironing board then. Bloody hell, Peter Pan right
enough. We'll need to put you on hormones.'

But nothing she said could possibly annoy me now. At
last, a proper holiday with a real friend instead of my sad
boring sister. So love my parents sometimes.

Also, as Liz has pointed out, it might be the perfect
opportunity to get a real boyfriend and lose my (now
shameful) virgin lips status.

Feel this is going to be the most exciting holiday of my
whole life.

Went shopping for holiday stuff with Mum. Didn't need
to go bikini shopping unfortunately as the one I got two
years ago still fits, sort of. Still, at least it's the first bikini
not bought at the children's department and there's
another week to go before we leave. Maybe my breasts
will grow a bit in that time or in the heat of Spain.

Was really surprised when Chris called me today and
asked if I wanted to go into town with him to check out
the new game shop that had just opened and maybe get a
burger or something.

I said, 'Why me? Won't Emily go with you? Or Gary
maybe?'

'Emily and I have split up. I haven't asked Gary.
Thought it might be nice for us to go. I haven't seen you
since school ended. And, well, like you said, we're still
friends, aren't we?'

Felt a rush of relief. Yeah, now that Emily wouldn't be
hanging around him any more maybe he'd have time for
me.

But I said, 'Oh, I'm sorry, Chris. What happened?'

'Nothing really. Just, I don't know, it was time to move
on, I suppose. So, you want to come? They've got a
sale on.'

Hmm. Time to move on. Chris seemed to be doing a lot
of 'moving on' these days. And I bet as soon as he's got a
new girlfriend it will be time for him to 'move on' again
so he won't want to be bothered with me. There was no
way I was going to let him humiliate me a second time.

'Sorry, Chris, but I'm really too busy for town today.
Maybe another time.'

And maybe not
. I put the phone down before he could
answer. Chris was right. It was time to move on.

Just one more day to our holiday. Can't wait. It's going to
be so great going with Liz instead of boring Angela. I
mean, who wants to go on holiday with someone who
always packs an umbrella and diarrhoea tablets, listens
attentively to the safety instructions on the plane and
spends the entire vacation writing postcards which – get
this – she actually puts stamps on and posts. God knows
what she finds to write about as she never actually does
anything.

Liz and I have talked about nothing else but our
holiday for weeks now. We can hardly believe it's finally
nearly here. Only problem is, Liz constantly going on
about my finding someone to snog.

'Doesn't matter that much, Liz. I mean, being a virgin
lips isn't all that shameful, is it?'

But Liz was determined. 'Of course it is. It's like, well
. . . like still riding a tricycle when everyone else is on a
bike.'

'That was you, Liz.'

'Or, um, still wearing mittens tied together with wool
and threaded through your coat sleeves when everyone
else wears proper gloves and loses them.'

'That was you too.'

'Or getting a spit wash from your mum in front of the
whole school.'

Oh God, that was me. When I was in primary six,
Mum met me at the school gates at home time and
'cleaned' a dirty mark on my nose by spitting on her
thumb and using it to wipe the mark away. In front of the
whole school. I blushed at the memory.

'So,' Liz said, 'it's way past time you had your first
snog.' She laughed. 'This holiday you're going to kiss
goodbye to your virgin lips.'

Yay, finally!

At the airport the check-in person wasn't able to find
us four seats together. Dad said, 'Thank God for that. Can
you put them as far away as possible so we can pretend
they're not with us?' Then he looked at Liz and me and
smiled. 'Only joking, girls.'

Hilarious. I mean, as if
we
actually wanted to be
associated with
them
.

Parents made for the airport lounge so Liz and I
wandered off to look at the duty-free shops. Saw a nice
pair of sunglasses which I thought I might buy as spares
since I usually lose mine. Only £2.99, so a good bargain
too. However, when I took them to the cash desk the
assistant told me quite snootily that they were £299 and
was I sure I really wanted her to ring this up.

Bloody hell. £299! Still, how was she to know I couldn't
afford them?

'Oh, um, no, actually, they're um' – I squinted at the
label – 'Emporio Armani and I'd wanted, er' – I paused,
desperately trying to think of some other expensive
brand they hopefully didn't stock – 'Gucci actually.'

'I'm sorry, miss, but we don't have any in stock at the
moment.'

'Oh, what a pity,' I said, in what I hoped was a
convincingly disappointed tone.

'Aye, right,' the woman laughed.

Bloody nerve. It's not as though
she
could have
afforded them either. She was just a shop assistant person
like Mum.

Unfortunately once we got on the plane I discovered
we were seated right across from my parents. Liz bagged
the aisle seat so I had to sit in the middle between her and
a woman so fat her flesh flowed under and over the arm
rest into my seat. Just as well I'm skinny.

Liz and I tried our hardest to act as if we weren't really
with my parents, especially as they were intent on drinking
their way to Spain, laughing and giggling like
geriatric school kids while singing (if you can call it that)
'Summer Holiday'.

At least they stopped their embarrassing tuneless
braying when the dinner came. This sounded really nice
and kind of classy: 'Boeuf bourguignon with pommes
sautées and petit pois'. It was disgusting though, with a
kind of yellowish circle of mashed something, which I
think was supposed to be potato, some green gunk
(peas?) and brown stuff which looked like dog turd. Also
I was uncomfortably squashed, and even though I'm
small I still had to eat the meal with my elbows tucked in
and my hands in front of my chin so I probably looked
like a praying mantis.

Can't wait for this flight to end and our holiday to
really begin.

Liz and I woke around eleven o'clock with the sunshine
streaming in our window. We decided to go to the pool
right away and put on our bikinis. I examined my
reflection in the mirror but unfortunately my breasts
hadn't grown in the week or in the heat of Spain. Having
said that, the room was air conditioned. Maybe when I
went outside . . . Everything expands in the heat after all.

However, Liz dashed this hope for me too. 'Breasts
aren't made of mercury, Kelly Ann, so I don't think going
outside will make much difference. Here' – she pulled
some pink toilet paper from the roll – 'use this. It's the
same colour as your bikini. Just remember to take it out
before you go into the pool.'

I folded the paper into two wads, which I used to pack
the cups of my bikini top, then eyed Liz's double-D
breasts enviously. 'You're so lucky, Liz.'

'Stop looking at me like that, Kelly Ann, or people really
will think you're gay. Anyway, you're the one that's lucky. Loads of boys
fancy slim girls. And you can eat anything you want. Talking of eating' –
she took two chocolate Creme Eggs out of her bag – 'I bought our breakfast
at the airport yesterday.'

After we'd had 'breakfast' I knocked on Mum and Dad's
door, but they were still in bed, probably sleeping off a
hangover because of all the booze they'd drunk. Mum
called grumpily through the door that we could go down
to the pool by ourselves and told me to grab two sun
loungers for her and Dad.

The place was already crowded but luckily there were
four loungers left so we bagged them. Well, actually, only
two definitely free but the others only had towels on
them, which we quickly removed then stashed under a
table by the pool café.

Liz wanted to sunbathe for a while, which I find kind
of boring.

'I've got to work on my tan first, Kelly Ann.'

Yeah, like it really takes a lot of effort just to lie and
bake, but I didn't argue as I know Liz loves getting a tan
because she thinks it makes her look slimmer. 'If you can't
tone it, tan it' is her motto, so I settled down to read the
magazine she had loaned me while I waited for her to
decide when she'd toasted enough.

Was just reading about this season's 'must have'
strawberry-pink pumps, banana-yellow tops and
tangerine skirts when Liz whispered, 'Oh my God, Kelly
Ann, look at that.'

I followed the direction of her gaze and saw a blonde,
skinny woman who must have been at least as old as my
mum bathing topless. Yuck. And she was with her two
sons, one of whom looked about the same age as me and
Liz. Oh God, how embarrassing. Yet the woman was
behaving as though nothing was wrong at all; like it was,
I don't know, totally normal to flash your breasts at
everyone, even complete strangers and your own sons.
Gross.

I stared at her, horrified, as she sat eating a baguette;
when some of the crumbs fell onto her boobs she just
brushed them off with her hand like you would if you
had your clothes on.

I suppose she must have noticed me gawping at her as
she smiled at me. I looked away hurriedly and saw Mum
coming towards us, fortunately wearing a proper swimsuit,
so even though she had a fag in one hand and a
Bacardi and Coke in the other, I smiled at her gratefully.
Yeah, some people had even more embarrassing parents
than me.

Mum settled in alongside us, leaving a space for Dad,
and I went back to reading Liz's magazine. As soon as
Mum finished her drink and another two and a half fags
she fell asleep with her mouth open like a basking shark
as usual, then started to snore loudly. Normally I'd have
been quite embarrassed but not now. As long as she kept
her clothes on I didn't care.

Tried to concentrate on the magazine as Liz has said I
really do have to learn something about girl stuff like
fashion and make-up, but it was just so boring. I mean,
who really cares or can be bothered to line their lips and
put on three coats of mascara? And only a total masochist
would wear 'killer heels' that you can't actually walk in
without excruciating pain and probably permanent foot
deformity.

I tossed Liz's magazine aside and picked up my copy
of
PSW
. Was happily reading reviews of the latest games
when I was interrupted by Liz saying very loudly and
clearly, 'You know, Kelly Ann, it was so good of
your
parents to invite me on this holiday, especially as I have
absolutely no connection to your family and am totally
unrelated.'

What was Liz on about? I looked over at her but she
was staring at something to the left of me; from her
expression, it was something pretty disturbing. I followed
her gaze and saw my dad walking towards us. At first I
couldn't see why Liz was bothered. He was wearing a
T-shirt as his white skin burns in the sun, and a stupidlooking
straw hat which was too big for him, but so what?
Then my gaze travelled down. Oh. My. God. Instead of
the normal navy blue, baggy boxer trunks that he's worn
on every holiday since I was six, he had tiny red lycra
pants which were very, very tight and showed well,
EVERYTHING!

I covered my face with the magazine, desperately
hoping that if I couldn't see him maybe he'd somehow
magically disappear.

No such luck. 'Hi, girls. Enjoying yourselves?' He
settled himself in the lounger next to me. 'Your mother's
been working hard again I see, Kelly Ann. Don't know
how she keeps up the pace.'

'Dad,' I hissed, still hiding my face behind the
magazine, 'where are your trunks?'

'Bloody hell, don't tell me I forget to put them on,' Dad
joked. 'I knew there was something else I should have
done this morning.'

'You know what I'm talking about!'

'Oh aye, the
new
trunks. They were your mother's
idea. Seems they're all the fashion now because of some
James Bond film. You don't like them?'

I stood up and dropped the magazine on his lap, not
very gently. 'Cover yourself up, for God's sake.'

Boiling with rage and shame, I stomped off and dived
straight into the cool, blue pool. Oh God, that felt so good.
At first anyway, but then I had to spend the next fifteen
minutes straining bits of pink toilet paper from the water.
A bunch of young kids helped me and seemed to enjoy
the game, yelping and screaming as they caught tiny
pieces of sodden tissue and brought them to me, making
sure that absolutely everyone by the pool was aware of
what had happened.

Finally a little blonde English girl of about four or five
brought me the last pink shred, then advised me
solemnly, 'Toilet paper is for your bottom, not your
boobies.'

Well, thanks for that. Still, as Liz said later, at least she
is the first person to acknowledge that I
do
actually have
breasts.

Gave in yesterday and asked Mum to buy me a bikini
from a children's shop as I don't want any more embarrassing
pool episodes. Actually, the top is a bit small
for me so what little cleavage I have is more noticeable.
Also I am hoping that with a different bikini, baseball cap
and dark glasses people might not recognize me.

Persuaded Dad to buy a huge, outsize and, more
importantly, very long T-shirt for himself which I hoped
would cover him up when he wears those disgusting
lycra swimming trunks again.

Sorted.

Mum and Dad were sleeping off their hangovers again
this morning so Liz and I went down to the pool by ourselves.
Think my disguise worked as no one seemed to be
staring at me and sniggering. Liz was disappointed there
weren't any boys around the pool with 'snogging
potential'. I think she meant for me rather than her as
she is still determined I'm to lose my virgin lips this
holiday.

After Liz had 'worked on her tan' we had a great time
messing about in the pool and even got talking to a
couple of boys from Liverpool who, though they were
totally unfanciable (freckly and skinny) and had a weird
accent, were a good laugh. They probably thought the
same thing about us.