Rebecca Elliott - Pretty Rude

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First published 2021

Text copyright Rebecca Elliott, 2021
Author photo copyright Tom Soper Photography
YouTube is a trade mark belonging to Google LLC

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Cover illustration by Jordan Carter

ISBN: 978-0-241-37466-5

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the authors and publishers rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

For my little feminist boys, Toby and Benjy. Xx

Shoulders back and chin up, I manhandle my boobs into separate entities, determined as they are to lump together and form one sinister super-boob. I check myself out in the mirror on the upstairs landing. A mirror Ive had at best a challenging relationship with over my fifteen years.

Were still hardly BFFs, and there are many days when I hate the motherflipper, but at least now she doesnt always stare at me with a judgemental glare. In fact, sometimes I kind of like how she looks at me now. I see myself less as an unfinished, poorly constructed primary-school project and more like Im the real deal, not perfect by any means, but something worth looking at, something that doesnt need to be hidden.

My body hasnt changed I still sometimes think its like a collection of overlapping circles, like an upturned Olympics logo but my view of it most definitely has. I like me. I like my overlapping circles my lady lumps. And I like putting them in clothes that enhance my me-ness, like the current ensemble Im modelling this evening a Princess Leia T-shirt covered by a tweed waistcoat, ripped jeans, white trainers and a red fedora hat. Good God, fashion is a lot more fun when you get over the whole you MUST NOT wear this if you want to look thin and normal crap.

Thin and normal are so overrated.

Just as Im admiring myself, like a puppy wagging its tail at the sight of its reflection in a window, I hear the whirlwind sounds of Mum manically clearing up the days mess. I freeze. The ominous crashes move from the kitchen into the hall.

I should be in bed (or at least studying). Instead, Im trying on outfits I might wear if I pluck up the courage to do my comedy stand-up routine at the local pubs open-mic night on Friday. The pub owned by the dad of Leo, the git-crush who used me for my comedy-writing skills before breaking my hopeless heart.

But, hey, his dads pub is the only place around here you can do stand-up comedy. I mean, sure, I could just rock up to the corner of my street and start telling jokes to the group of sinister ten-year-olds hanging round the vandalized postbox, but something tells me they wouldnt be the most receptive audience.

The mum-tornado moves back to the living room and I breathe again.

Mum likes that I do comedy and she likes that I like my reflection these days, but she definitely does not like me faffing around with these things when I should be doing something more important, like helping her tidy up, revising for exams or going to bed. Honestly, I love that woman, but her priorities are messed up.

As I debate whether the red fedora might be a little too much even for me, I feel the familiar buzz of a new comedy idea. I silently dance a jig of joy back into my bedroom and scribble down some notes before the idea falls out of my brain and vanishes like joke-flavoured ice cream melting on to the pavement of comedic regret. Studying can wait. I mean, theres a whole school year before my GCSE exams, so whats the rush?

I rummage around in my floordrobe (the polite term my delightful mother uses for the impressive landscape of clothes piled around my room) and forage for the perfect outfit to match the new idea. And eventually, after scaling Stinky Mountain and cave-diving through Pants Peak, I unearth just the right ensemble.

I strip down, put on a black strappy vest and team it with the yellow fake-fur coat I rescued from a pile of old seventies stuff my Granny Mo (or Grammo as we inventively call her) was throwing out. Perfect! Then I make a run for it over to the bathroom and start slapping on Mums make-up. Im not aiming for sexy here Id say Im going more for a look that is mad clown meets Kim Kardashian and, when Im finally satisfied that my face is weighed down with enough cosmetics to frighten a small child, I turn my attention to my hair. I backcomb and scrunch it up with great fistfuls of mousse, until my hair-to-face ratio is similar to a snooker ball being spooned by a poodle.

I return to the mirror. I look well, perhaps not ridiculously fabulous, but definitely fabulously ridiculous.

Back in my bedroom, I sit in front of my phone, which is glamorously propped up on my desk against a box of Tampax Compak. I pull my mouth into a patronizing grin, press record and start a brand-new YouTube video.

Hi, everyone! Its the PFG here. Did you know that seven out of ten teenage girls hate the way they look? I know, right, that is shocking. Just terrible the arrogance of the other three.

But seriously I think we should all celebrate our beauty. Now, Im a bigger girl in case you hadnt noticed (which Im sure you hadnt because who really cares about what girls on the internet look like, right?) and Ill tell you what really gets on my tit-end, and thats the shedloads of blogs and vlogs telling me what, as a plus-size girl, I should and should not wear. You know the kind of thing

Then, with a super-happy, girlie American accent, I launch into a spoof of all those helpful videos.

Hi, its me, Stacy Beeatch, and Im back with my latest fashion tips for the unfortunate.

OK, this ones aimed at all you gorgeous BIG girls, all you super-sized, sexy, curvaceous fatty-boom-batties! You know who you are! And you should be proud of who you are, while at the same time hiding it so no one else has to pretend to like it.

So what Im gonna do for you today is tell you what you should NOT wear if you want to pass as a human. OK! How exciting! Lets start!

So, first off, you need to determine what body shape you are. Theres the hourglass shape, the inverted triangle, the pear shape but, as this vids for big girls, Im gonna go ahead and presume youre potato-shaped, which just means fat all over. OK? OK!

So here are my top five tips.

One. Invest in some shapewear. Girls, you need something industrial-strength that will suck, tuck, punish and torture your body into some sort of recognizable girl shape. Repeat after me: I do not need full use of my internal organs. I DO need to look thinner.