Skinny Jeans Have No Place On These Thighs
Conversation Trumping
“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for ages!”
Izzie is standing outside McDonalds by the time I finally arrive. I’m late through no fault of my own. Mum tried to talk to me about something that was apparently really important but I just can tell that she could tell I wanted to go out and therefore she felt an inhuman need to delay me and keep me from wherever I was going.
I apologise but don’t grovel for Izzie's approval. I feel different this morning. Not necessarily happy but definitely in no mood to be made to feel bad by her.
“It’s all right,” says Izzie in a tone that implies that it’s not all right and that she was exceptionally busy doing something else when she agreed to see me. “It’s just – oh God, hang on a second.”
Out of her bag, Izzie pulls a packet of Benson and Hedges and goes to put one in her mouth.
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
I’m eying the cigarette with caution. Since when has Izzie picked up this habit and for what possible reason?
I’ve had a few recently because I’m trying to impress a boy. Izzie already has a boyfriend therefore she no longer needs to impress him.
Not that she needed to. She put out the first night she met Andrew Foreman and I’m guessing that she’s been doing for the last few weeks of their relationship.
“What?” she asks, obviously under the apprehension that I have a problem with it. “You got a - ?””
What I did next was actually pretty cool. I took the cigarette out of her mouth, wrapped my lips around it and drew a lighter from my pocket and promptly set fire to the end.
I don’t know where the lighter came from but I’m assuming it’s Marcus’s from last night. I must have taken it out of his jacket at some point before I got into the taxi although I have no recollection of exactly when or why.
It doesn’t really matter.
The look on Izzie’s face alone has made the last weeks worth it. “What are you doing?” I shrug and pass her it back. “What is going on with you, Ella?”
This is what really annoys me about Izzie sometimes. It’s fine for her to have sex and for it to be no big deal but then for me to have a cigarette is something really, really shocking.
Add in the fact that she now apparently smokes too and you can also shove hypocrite onto my list of irritation.
Also, ‘what’s going on with me’ is the reason we’ve met up and I can hardly tell her the in’s and out’s of it outside McDonalds, even if it is Sunday and fairly quiet.
So, Izzie and I walk down to Madingley Park and plonk ourselves down in the middle of one of the fields, away from the boys playing football and the dodgy group of young men hanging around near the edge of the trees.
I start to tell her about Marcus but Izzie interrupts me in an American accent by saying, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, since when has there been anything going on with you and Marcus anyway? Have you shagged him or something?”
I’m fuming. I haven’t and she knows it. But now whatever I say won’t be as exciting as it could be. Basically, her love life trumps mine because she’s having sex and I’m not. And she wants to remind me of that.
Life is ridiculously filled with people's flaws and quirks ruining conversations. Why are Izzie and I playing games with each other like this? Why can't she let me have my moment of being the crazy one doing mental stuff?
This probably isn't going coming out. Maybe not everyone has a friend like Izzie. In my opinion, that is lucky but only so far as they've not had to put up with it yet.
Izzie is standing outside McDonalds by the time I finally arrive. I’m late through no fault of my own. Mum tried to talk to me about something that was apparently really important but I just can tell that she could tell I wanted to go out and therefore she felt an inhuman need to delay me and keep me from wherever I was going.
I apologise but don’t grovel for Izzie's approval. I feel different this morning. Not necessarily happy but definitely in no mood to be made to feel bad by her.
“It’s all right,” says Izzie in a tone that implies that it’s not all right and that she was exceptionally busy doing something else when she agreed to see me. “It’s just – oh God, hang on a second.”
Out of her bag, Izzie pulls a packet of Benson and Hedges and goes to put one in her mouth.
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
I’m eying the cigarette with caution. Since when has Izzie picked up this habit and for what possible reason?
I’ve had a few recently because I’m trying to impress a boy. Izzie already has a boyfriend therefore she no longer needs to impress him.
Not that she needed to. She put out the first night she met Andrew Foreman and I’m guessing that she’s been doing for the last few weeks of their relationship.
“What?” she asks, obviously under the apprehension that I have a problem with it. “You got a - ?””
What I did next was actually pretty cool. I took the cigarette out of her mouth, wrapped my lips around it and drew a lighter from my pocket and promptly set fire to the end.
I don’t know where the lighter came from but I’m assuming it’s Marcus’s from last night. I must have taken it out of his jacket at some point before I got into the taxi although I have no recollection of exactly when or why.
It doesn’t really matter.
The look on Izzie’s face alone has made the last weeks worth it. “What are you doing?” I shrug and pass her it back. “What is going on with you, Ella?”
This is what really annoys me about Izzie sometimes. It’s fine for her to have sex and for it to be no big deal but then for me to have a cigarette is something really, really shocking.
Add in the fact that she now apparently smokes too and you can also shove hypocrite onto my list of irritation.
Also, ‘what’s going on with me’ is the reason we’ve met up and I can hardly tell her the in’s and out’s of it outside McDonalds, even if it is Sunday and fairly quiet.
So, Izzie and I walk down to Madingley Park and plonk ourselves down in the middle of one of the fields, away from the boys playing football and the dodgy group of young men hanging around near the edge of the trees.
I start to tell her about Marcus but Izzie interrupts me in an American accent by saying, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, since when has there been anything going on with you and Marcus anyway? Have you shagged him or something?”
I’m fuming. I haven’t and she knows it. But now whatever I say won’t be as exciting as it could be. Basically, her love life trumps mine because she’s having sex and I’m not. And she wants to remind me of that.
Life is ridiculously filled with people's flaws and quirks ruining conversations. Why are Izzie and I playing games with each other like this? Why can't she let me have my moment of being the crazy one doing mental stuff?
This probably isn't going coming out. Maybe not everyone has a friend like Izzie. In my opinion, that is lucky but only so far as they've not had to put up with it yet.
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Sorry it's been ages. Been busy and the like. More coming soon, I promise, promise, promise.