Before we even get started, there is one thing that I must clear up. When a girl calls herself fat, it is more a reflection of how she feels than how she looks. I don't know one woman with an honest mirror. Hindsight has taught me the flaws of my former ways; but how I wish I could get back down to that 75kg 'fat' of 1995? Now that I really am fat, maybe hindsight is not such a talented teacher, I promise to appreciate all my good points. Audrey Hepburn said it herself (can you believe that even her mirror lied?), focus on your good points and forget the rest. OK Audrey, consider it done.
The First Fat Girl in Paris is a wonderful novel, semi autobiographic like David Copperfield, which follows the life of a girl who led a life not without adventure, courage, travel, language, friends, eighteenth century rhetoric, tears, laughter, bassoon, Jaqueline du Pre and Audrey Hepburn, oh and the invisible fat. In addition to being wonderful, it is unwritten.
So if indeed there was no fat, why mention it? Because my dear readers, it was felt. The boogey man, did he frighten you? He wasn't real was he?, but you were still frightened, so the fat and the boogey man go in the same box. 'Feel' is the operative word in this story. This story is about so much more than the aforementioned nouns, it's about feeling. In the mind and soul of a Bi Polar / Borderline Personality Disorder sufferer, reality is irrelevant, it's the feelings that matter.
I recall the moment at 35 Clapham Common Northside when I titled the non-existant novel. It was anxiety and excitement, adjectives that bear no difference in the German language, belittling my confidence to nasty name calling. I felt inadequate to step outside Gare du Nord station and into the real world of France. Do the aesthetic police circumnavigate entry points to the country ready to pounce any being that may disrupt the national standard of beauty? In any case, I was concerned about being a source of visual pollution. Should I also adopt the national diet of Gauloise and expresso?
The First Fat Girl in Paris is a wonderful novel, semi autobiographic like David Copperfield, which follows the life of a girl who led a life not without adventure, courage, travel, language, friends, eighteenth century rhetoric, tears, laughter, bassoon, Jaqueline du Pre and Audrey Hepburn, oh and the invisible fat. In addition to being wonderful, it is unwritten.
So if indeed there was no fat, why mention it? Because my dear readers, it was felt. The boogey man, did he frighten you? He wasn't real was he?, but you were still frightened, so the fat and the boogey man go in the same box. 'Feel' is the operative word in this story. This story is about so much more than the aforementioned nouns, it's about feeling. In the mind and soul of a Bi Polar / Borderline Personality Disorder sufferer, reality is irrelevant, it's the feelings that matter.
I recall the moment at 35 Clapham Common Northside when I titled the non-existant novel. It was anxiety and excitement, adjectives that bear no difference in the German language, belittling my confidence to nasty name calling. I felt inadequate to step outside Gare du Nord station and into the real world of France. Do the aesthetic police circumnavigate entry points to the country ready to pounce any being that may disrupt the national standard of beauty? In any case, I was concerned about being a source of visual pollution. Should I also adopt the national diet of Gauloise and expresso?
Boomer! You go to amazing places...I enjoyed reading your blogs. Why don't you come to Canada and visit?
ReplyDeleteKeep holding your head up high girl - even though I haven't seen much of you for a long time......I can tell you have a lot to offer this world. Take care!
Robert (as in Robert Graham)
Thanks Robert,
DeleteI hope that by making my story public, fellow alcoholics and mental health suffers can arrive at an enjoyable standard of living as I have.
Canada is definitely on my list of things to do.
Keep up that beautiful music. I love 'Storm in a Teacup'. You are a true talent.
KJxxx