Rutter - No Big Deal

Bethany Rutter is a journalist and blogger who writes about fat bodies, plus size fashion and body politics including the benefits and limitations of body positivity. She works in marketing at a plus-size fashion brand and is an occasional DJ. Her writing has appeared in the Guardian , Telegraph Magazine , Vogue , Dazed , RedOnline , The Debrief and others. She co-hosts the podcast What Page Are You On? and is the author of Plus+ , a coffee table book offering style inspiration for everyone.

For Julie and Jonathan

Whats taking you so long? Abi calls from outside the changing-room door.

Id bet all the coins in my pocket that Abis never got stuck in a dress at Topshop. Or maybe this is a thing that happens to really thin people too. I wouldnt know.

Oh, nothing. I was just texting my dad, and Im only just trying the dress on now. I do my best to keep the laughter out of my voice, hoping someday soon Ill be able to wriggle out of this lilac polyester number. No matter how hard I pull, no matter how much I try to flatten my boobs, this dress is going nowhere.

OK, bud Ill go and look at shoes till youre done. The skirt was too big for me anyway, she says.

Insult to injury.

I hear her clatter out of the changing room, and Im alone, dripping with sweat, feeling ridiculous, trying to figure out how I got the dress over my shoulders and boobs in the first place. Surely science dictates that what goes on must come off again? Whatever the science, in this scenario, theres only one thing for it. I must take decisive and dramatic action.

Carefully, slowly, imperceptibly I push the door open and peek outside. The changing room is still unattended, and in an empty changing room, no one can hear you pull a dress so hard over your head that you rip the seams.

So I do it.

The dress deserves it. The dress is now my arch-nemesis and needs to be punished. Jesus, what a close call. My arms are shaking from being stuck upright in the air for several minutes. I need a lie down. No more trying on clothes that will clearly never fit me.

I step back into my decidedly plus-size jeans (black, tight and artfully ripped), button up my leopard-print shirt, and slip on my sandals, before fleeing my minor crime scene and going to rejoin Abi and the others. Abi is eyeing up the highest heels on the shelf, picking them up and turning them over to check the price. Ella is trying on some holographic trainers, and Sophia, Ellas girlfriend, is holding her bag while closely examining the skin around her nails, apparently looking for the next finger to nibble on.

No joy? Abi asks.

No it was a bit too short, I lie.

Abi shrugs as if to say, It happens to us all .

If Camila were here, I would probably confess my crime to her in exchange for some sympathy, but shes still visiting her grandparents in Sweden. Shed understand, not just because shes the only other fat girl in my year at school, but also because shes my best friend. She gets me. Shell be home on Sunday, ready to start the new term, and I cannot wait to see her.

Someone tell me I do not need holographic platform trainers, says Ella, or Ill end up buying these, and Sophia will have to go without a birthday present.

No chance, Sophia says, handing Ellas bag back, snaking an arm around her waist and kissing her.

Theyre completely obsessed with each other, and its kind of perfect. Their relationship feels like looking into another world to me a landscape Ive never even set foot in. I am a seventeen-year-old romance-free zone. It just hasnt happened for me yet, and its starting to worry me.

Can we get out of here? Im still a little light-headed from overheating inside that too-tight dress and need to breathe the sweet Croydon air.

Where to? asks Abi.

Im in the mood for a milkshake, says Sophia.

Its a foregone conclusion: were already walking in that direction.

The four of us head up the escalator to Milkbar, Ella and Sophia blocking the way by refusing to let go of each other, Abi furiously messaging, and me just trying to cool the hell down. When we arrive, we realize we are in luck: Priyanka is at work today. And Priyanka working at Milkbar means upgraded milkshakes.

Priyanka, my sweet princess, love of my life, angel of my dreams! says Abi, blowing kisses over the counter.

Yes, you can have some free shit, says Priyanka, clearly overjoyed to see us after a day of frazzled summer-holiday parents and their over-sugared children. She gets started on our usual orders.

Priyanka should not be left unattended; shes probably skimmed hundreds of pounds worth of Jaffa Cakes, Maltesers, Oreos and chocolate flakes off the top of Milkbars stock over the summer shes worked here and thats just for us.

Its late August, all our summer obligations are over, and weve really run out of things to do: traipsing around the Whitgift Centre, trying on clothes we cant afford (or in my case, fit into), drinking milkshakes, lying on the grass in front of the civic centre. Croydon has limited options in terms of how to spend your summer holiday. And this is the last one that will end with a return to school. The last one with comfort and familiarity on the horizon. After this year, well all be going off to university, off to... well, who knows what?

Voila, says Priyanka, handing us our orders and ringing up a nominal amount on the till. Guess who was in here earlier?

We could be here a while, I reply. Just tell us.

Ben, she says, smiling and adjusting her uniform baseball cap.

Was he alone or are the lads out and about? Abi asks, twisting her braids into a bun on top of her head, trying to act like she doesnt care what the answer is.

Yeah, a few of them were out, including Oliver I know thats what youre actually asking but I didnt really chat much to them. Ben was looking A plus plus, and thats all that matters.

You have to step it up, says Abi. You literally have one year left to convert this crush into a reality before we all disappear for uni, and he is gone forever! Step on it!

Abi is always passionately encouraging people to get it on. Its one of her talents.

But I would literally cringe myself to death if I put myself out there, and he wasnt into me. Priyanka is clearly in need of a pep talk.

You already know, pretty much for definite, that hes into you, I say. I think if any of us thought there was a chance he wasnt interested, we wouldnt be telling you to go for it.

Youre right. Youre always right. Less making milkshakes more making out. Priyanka nods sagely. Her face suddenly breaks into a big grin, and she twirls on the spot, too full of enthusiasm over the promise of Ben to stay still.

For someone with little (read zero ) experience in matters of the heart (and the bedroom), its surprising how often Im called upon to bring a sense of rationality to a situation. But I really cant imagine being certain that someone was definitely into me. Bless Camila for being as useless as I am. Were sisters in arms in the barren land of No Romance. I miss her a lot. Two months is a long time to be apart from your best friend, and to make matters worse, shes in an internet-free zone. Turns out old Swedish people who live on tiny islands arent that bothered about Wi-Fi.

Abis right though: one year left until were spat out into the real world, jumbled up with a new mix of people who dont know us. Do I really want to leave for uni without ever having so much as kissed anyone? Maybe I need to step on it too? Maybe now actually is the time?