Lorraine Collins
A Body of Work
I sit on the chair in your bedroom, the one we used to have goodnight cuddles on at story-time. Your favourite was Guess How Much I Love You. You kept it for years.
You drink your protein shake; a daily dose of one gram for every pound of your target weight.
You point to the colour coded exercise tracker you’ve pinned on the wall. The chart has replaced the personalised wall art I bought you for your twelfth birthday, three long years ago. Your name was printed in the centre in a big loopy font and circled around it the words I had chosen - beautiful, smart, funny, cheeky. And your favourite things - hot chocolate with marshmallows, horse riding, Taylor Swift, bubble tea. I can still see remnants of the Blu-tack, faded like the remnants of your younger self.
I wonder what you did with the poster.
“Today is an upper body day,” you explain, as you unroll your gym mat onto the carpet. You fill your lungs then slowly exhale. You do this several times. I realise that as I count your breaths, I am holding mine.
I make myself still and unimposing, a neutral observer, no judgement.
You start the routine.
10 diamond push ups, 3 reps
Your shoulder muscles ripple, your body skims the ground. The nape of your bare neck glistens with effort.
10 bicep curls, 3 reps
The veins in your forearms bulge, taut with protest. The dumbbells look too heavy, I worry you’ll hurt yourself.
10 tricep dips, 3 reps
You push yourself up and down against the side of your empty bookshelf, the fiction of your childhood now displaced by the vision of your future.
10 lat pull downs, 3 reps
You grab the bar attached to the door frame, your underarm hair glistening with sweat. You grimace with determination.
You pause, your breathing laboured, your flattened chest rising and falling.
You go to the wall chart, tick the boxes.
“I’m going from pear to square,” you explain, “and see...” you flex your broadening shoulders and pose in front of the mirror “...how much smaller my hips look now!”
It’s a whole new language for me, I have come to terms with it, with everything. No longer Molly, now Olly, but still my smart, funny child.
The weight lifts from me as I transition from denial to acceptance.
Lorraine Collins won the Anansi Archive and has been short or longlisted in Flash 500, Retreat West, Walk Talk Create, Wildfire Words, Writetime and various English literary festival competitions.
