The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl Read Online Free PDF Page A

didn’t have to drive back to Canberra. Mum came inside and after twenty years we sat down and finally started to talk. In the end I knew she heard us. She simply said, “I’m sorry.” And that’s all we’d ever wanted to hear.
    Since I crawled out of the shadow of the past I’ve felt lighter, almost hopeful. But now the present has finally come into full focus. I’d convinced myself I’ve been happy these past two years, pulling out of the depression and getting a grown-up job and a nice flat and a car that works.
    But now all the things I tried to block out are coming at me in little bursts of awareness. How I don’t have a life outside work. How I buy a bigger size every time I go to the shops. How in summer my thighs rub together until they bleed. How no matter what fancy things my hairdresser does to my hair she can’t disguise my chins. How I’m breathless just walking from the couch to the fridge. How I write e-mails to my friends instead of meeting them in person. How no matter what crazy angle I hold my camera, there’s no such thing as a flattering shot.
    I looked in the mirror tonight and saw a stranger. I don’t recognize this body. There’s the same red hair I’ve always had, but it looks almost comical sitting on top of my big round head, like a cheap toupee. My eyes are just two little dots, lost in the vast sprawl of my cheeks. I look modular and disjointed, as though you could take me apart like a plastic Lego man. I don’t look quite real. I wish I could crawl out of my skin and leave it behind.
    In that moment under the clothesline, gazing up at my colossal knickers, I saw my life spinning away from me, out of control. I’m twenty-three years old and the highlight of my day is opening a fresh bar of chocolate. Instead of writing or traveling or partying, I’m wondering if I can go to the McDonald’s drive-through again without the staff recognizing me. At some point I convinced myself that this was how my life was meant to be, and I’ve let my weight smother all my ambitions and dreams. I’m not really living. I’m just idling, merely existing.
    So that’s why I’ve got to try and fix this, even though it feels impossible. I’ve got to see if there’s anything on the other side.

YEAR ONE

WEEK 1
January 16
351 pounds
186 pounds to go
    Day One dawned bright and full of hope. Sunshine blasted through the wooden blinds, bathing my bedroom in an optimistic glow.
    Actually, it pretty much looks like that every morning; it is the middle of summer, after all. But maybe it was a dazzling sign that this Day One would be different from all the failed Day Ones that came before.
    I’ve never been an optimist. I like to expect the worst; that way if something good happens it’s a nice bonus. But this time I’m desperate to believe in sunshine and new beginnings, because surely there can’t be anything worse than last night, sobbing on the scale in front of multiple witnesses.
    As the great philosopher Yazz once said, the only way is up. Otherwise I’ll die of a heart attack by twenty-five. Or I’ll burst out of my trousers in a public place, which would be even worse.
    Rhiannon was already up and pouring herself a bowl of muesli.
    “Four POINTS with half a cup of semiskimmed milk!” she announced with a grin.
    “Bargain!”
    The Weight Watchers POINTS system really irritates me. Why must the word POINTS always be in uppercase? It sounds so loud and bossy. And the word point itself feels like an accusation, like a nagging schoolmarm poking you in the chest with her bony finger. Why did you eat that cake, don’t you know it’s 120 POINTS? Spit out that pizza, it’s 35 POINTS per slice!
    But points are my currency now, the new language of my mealtimes; so I will have to shut up and obey.
    I sat on the couch with my own bowl of muesli, looking at my Weight Watchers leaflets neatly fanned out on the coffee table. Diet paraphernalia always fills me with a great sense of purpose. Bring on