the sex god has landed...
sunday July 16th my room
Staring out of my bedroom window at other people having a nice life.
Who would have thought things could be so unbelievably pooey? I'm only fourteen and my life is over because of the selfishosity of-so-called grown-ups. I said to Mum, "You are ruining my life. Just because yours is practically over there is no reason to take it out on me."
But as usual when I say something sensible and meaningful she just tutted and adjusted her bra like a Russian roulette player. (Or do I mean disco thrower? I don't know and, what's more, I don't care.)
If I counted up the number of times I've been tutted at, I could open a tutting shop. It's just not fair.... How can my parents take me away from my mates and make me go to New Zealand? Who goes to New Zealand?
In the end, when I pointed out how utterly useless as a mum she was, she lost her rag and SHOUTED at me.
"Go to your room right now!"
I said, "All right, I'll go to my ROOM!! I WILL go to my room!! And do you know what I'll be doing in my room? No you don't, so I'll tell you! I'll be just BEING in my room. That's all. Because there is nothing else to do!!!!!"
Then I just left her there. To think about what she has done.
Unfortunately it means that I am in my bed and it is only six o'clock.
On the bright side I am now the girlfriend of a Sex God.
On the dark side, the Sex God doesn't know his new girlfriend is going to be forced to go to the other (useless) side of the universe in a week's time.
Oh Robbie, where are you now? Well, I know where you are now actually, but is this any time to go away unexpectedly on a footie trip?
I can't believe that after all the time it has taken to trap the SG, all the makeup I have had to buy, the trailing about, popping up unexpectedly when he was out anywhere . . . all that planning gone to waste. I finally get him to snog me (number six) and he says, "Let's see each other but keep it quiet for a bit." And at that moment, with classic poo timing, Mutti says, "We're off to New Zealand next week."
My eyes are all swollen up like mice eyes from crying. Even my nose is swollen. It's not small at the best of times, but now it looks like I've got three cheeks. Marvelous. Thank you, God.
I'll never get over this.
Time goes very slowly when you are suicidal.
I put sunglasses on to hide my tiny mincers. They are new ones that Mum bought me in a pathetic attempt to interest me in going to Kiwi-a-gogo land. They looked quite cool, actually. I looked a bit like one of those French actresses who smoke Gauloise and cry a lot in-between snogging Gerard Depardieu. I tried a husky French accent in the mirror.
"And zen when I was, how you say? une teenager, mes parents, mes tres, tres horriblement parents, take me to Nouvelle Zelande. Ahh merde!"
At which point I heard Mum coming up the stairs and had to leap into bed. She popped her head round the door and said, "Georgie ... are you asleep?"
I didn't say anything. That would teach her.
As she left she said, I wouldn't sleep in the sunglasses if I were you, they might get embedded in your head."
What kind of parenting was that? Mum's medical knowledge was about as good as Dad's DlY. And we had all seen his idea of a shed. Before it fell down on Uncle Eddie.
The foregoing is excerpted from On the Bright Side, I'm Now the Girlfriend of a Sex God by Louise Rennison. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission from HarperCollins Publishers, 10 East 53rd Street, New York, NY 10022
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