2/100 – Cammy goes to French class!

‘French is totally all about the attitude’.

I told myself this as I dressed for my very first French class, donning my brand name designer skirt (donated to me by my rich cousin who gained quite a bit of weight during her pregnancy) and a red beret tilted ever-so-slightly to the side. I can’t speak any French, but I can damn well look as though I do.

Gazing at my teacher however, took the sophistication out of my sails. “Bienvenue!” she called over the throng of students, gesticulating with all of that European glory. “Welcome to French class!”

Mid-30s, thin as a rake, dressed all in black and oozing a confidence I couldn’t dream of, her eyes followed me as I took my place at the table. I could feel all 95 kgs of me filling up my designer skirt. My cheeks turned scarlet and the beret I had worn for emphasis now felt a little silly. I wilted under her stare. “A new student!” she sang, clapping her hands together with glee. “Why don’t you introduce yourself! En francais!”

‘En francais’. In French. I hadn’t spoken French since my days failing School Cert French in high school. My mind desperately scrambled to remember some phrases from that time. All I could remember seemed limited to ‘I like…’ and some weird stock-phrases about animals and what they like to eat.

Then I remembered what my friend had told me about making it in France. ‘If in doubt, just add a vowel to everything’.

That’s what I planned to do. I slid out of my chair, and found 30 pairs of eyes upon me as I got on my feet. My beret tilted forward a little too far, and I stared back at them, terrified.

“Je suis…”

I looked at her. She smiled an open smile of encouragement, but everything about her was just so intimidating. All I could think about was how she was probably everything I ever wanted to be.

“Bonjour.. je suis Cammy.. J’aime le… books and stuff”

A silence came over the classroom.

“… pardon, Cammy,” the teacher said, after a moment of hesitation. “Can you speak French?”

I froze. Was I in the right class?

“Um.. no?”

“Oh, you see Cammy, this lesson is for… shall we say… the more advanced students. Go down to our reception Cammy, and see if you can sign up for our beginner courses. Maybe if you do, one day you can join us up here! A good goal, no?” she flashed me that winning, European smile.

My cheeks glowed redder. My heart felt like it had skipped a beat.

“S… sorry,” I mumbled, and gathered my things as quickly as I could.

I didn’t go to reception. I didn’t even enquire about the beginner course.

Maybe French is not for me.

GOAL ACHIEVED – Try something new

1/100 – Cammy tries green tea

Have you ever noticed how much green tea tastes like dish-washing liquid?

The thought occurred to me as I sat there, sipping on the frothy green concoction. Generations of Asian families have sworn by the stuff. I can barely get it down my throat without uttering a pathetic whimper when the aftertaste hits.

It was suggested to me by Rui – the stoic Chinese girl who I mentioned labelled me ‘spoiled goods’ in the last entry (I believe her exact words were “after 27 you are like a cake that no one wants” – but semantics). She waltzed in, carrying a green packed with some indecipherable Chinese lettering on the front. “You’re trying to lose weight, right?” she turned to me, and plonked the bag on my desk. “A gift, from me to you. Chinese have been using this to keep the weight off for centuries. Give this a go!”

I sized her up, the lithe little thing. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be big. She has never known what it is to puff walking up a slightly-sloped street, or fear going to theme parks because the harnesses they use on roller coasters may not quite cover you. Thin is wasted on the thin. I began to think that some things in life are unfair, but then I remembered that I got myself into this mess.

I grabbed a teacup, loaded it up with some flourescent green powder/water, and finished the thing in one go.

As they say in Chinese, ‘I will persevere’ (no idea if they actually say that in Chinese, but it sounds like a Chinese thing to say). No word on whether it is working or not yet. It tastes like a cleaning agent, and I’m downing it morning, noon and night. It’s not getting easier. I’m unsure if it ever will.

All I know is that I will do whatever it takes. Thankfully green tea is a lot kinder to my system than diet pills or forced laxatives. Heaven help me if I’m ever desperate enough to go down that road.

Cammy Is Fat

Hi. I’m Cammy.

Well, I’m not really Cammy.

Cammy is a penname I’ve created for myself because I want to be anonymous. Super anonymous. As in, if anyone-ever-finds-out-my-real-identity-I’ll-crawl-into-a-hole-and-never-come-out kind of anonymous.

It’s crazy, but it just might work. I’m not the first person to ever hide behind the wall of the internet.

In any case, hi.

I’m Cammy.

I have quite a story for you.

—

I’m 29. 29, single, and no prospects on the horizon. I’m a lowly secretary living out my days in an unassuming Auckland (New Zealand) suburb. My Chinese friend keeps telling me that I should get a move on – that by 30, I’m considered ‘spoiled goods’ (her words, not mine). I find similar attitudes with others here in AKL. “When are you getting married?” I hear all-too-frequently from probing relatives. “You’re getting on a bit now! How about that nice man who works at the bakery up the road?”

Ugh.

I’m also pretty fat. That’s blunt. I guess the medical term is ‘borderline obese’. I never used to be this way – 2-3 years ago I was sitting comfortably around the size 10-12 region. Now I’m reaching 18-20 or so. It sucks. I miss the days when my pants didn’t attempt to cut off blood-flow and threaten to leave me legless. I miss the days when I could buy a nice little black dress and get wolf-whistles from the construction guys as I walked past. Now I get glares from passers-by as soon as I try to eat something that isn’t a salad. I’ll say it again – it sucks.

I also have no direction. I dunno where I want to be 1 year, 2 years, 10 years from now. I feel like the future holds no excitement for me, and I’m just not happy about anything anymore. Being a secretary was alright when I graduated – it’s pretty hard to get a job after all, and in that recession I was lucky to get a foot in the door. 7 years later though and I’m still a secretary. No one has offered me any hint of promotion, even though my degree could totally apply to what my company specializes in. I’ve given up trying. But I don’t want to give up.

I want to change.

—

I’ve given myself 100 days.

I don’t fully know everything I want to achieve in those 100 days, but I do know that:

• I wanna lose at least 10kg
• I wanna learn something new every month
• I wanna try something crazy every week
• I wanna find a man (even if that means online dating – eek!)
• I wanna find out what to do with my life.

I’m going to document my 100 days of change here, starting from Day 1 tomorrow. I promise that in 100 days, my pitiful story above is gonna take a dramatic turn. Right now I feel like I’m failing at life. In 100 days, I’m gonna get a damn A+.

Here goes nothing.