Fast Fiction 2008 - The Wonderful Thing About Pudding
Title: The Wonderful Thing about Pudding
Word: Bananarama
Word count: 250
Requested by: Monkey
Foundation first. The thick pale-biscuit liquid creates a flawless canvas on which to paint her incredible masterpiece. No brush; her thick fingers smear the glutinous fluid this way and that. Blush cream next, although within the hour, her plump cheeks will glow like beacons, naturally red, through the dewy base.
Music, she thinks, rummaging through her tapes. Kylie, Bros. Happy music. Bananarama - excellent. Plug and play. Keep that smile on. She pulls awkwardly at her neon pink tube top. 1986 is not a good year to be a fat girl. Especially not a fat girl with thin friends.
Eyeshadow, pale blue and electric, blended well, and a thick line of kohl pencilled around the lash line. Mascara turns her sparse lashes into spiky blue spiders’ legs, jabbing helplessly at thin air.
Lip pencil before lipstick. Just a little outside the natural lip line. So what if it looks a bit tarty? Drawing outside means she can draw a little curve up at each corner. Perfect. Artistic. Mona Lisa would approve just as much as Miss Piggy would. Pink lipstick straight from the frosted bullet, thickly layered cemented colour; gloss on top, slickly wet, splashy sugar-sweet.
She dusts glitter over her ample cleavage, her fleshy shoulders, dabbing podgy cheeks for good measure.
“Pauline,” she says into the mirror. “My name is Pauline.”
Whatever the others say, whatever they can think of to call her this time, now her armour is finished, she will always look happy.
That’s the wonderful thing.
© H J M McAlroy 2008
Word: Bananarama
Word count: 250
Requested by: Monkey
Foundation first. The thick pale-biscuit liquid creates a flawless canvas on which to paint her incredible masterpiece. No brush; her thick fingers smear the glutinous fluid this way and that. Blush cream next, although within the hour, her plump cheeks will glow like beacons, naturally red, through the dewy base.
Music, she thinks, rummaging through her tapes. Kylie, Bros. Happy music. Bananarama - excellent. Plug and play. Keep that smile on. She pulls awkwardly at her neon pink tube top. 1986 is not a good year to be a fat girl. Especially not a fat girl with thin friends.
Eyeshadow, pale blue and electric, blended well, and a thick line of kohl pencilled around the lash line. Mascara turns her sparse lashes into spiky blue spiders’ legs, jabbing helplessly at thin air.
Lip pencil before lipstick. Just a little outside the natural lip line. So what if it looks a bit tarty? Drawing outside means she can draw a little curve up at each corner. Perfect. Artistic. Mona Lisa would approve just as much as Miss Piggy would. Pink lipstick straight from the frosted bullet, thickly layered cemented colour; gloss on top, slickly wet, splashy sugar-sweet.
She dusts glitter over her ample cleavage, her fleshy shoulders, dabbing podgy cheeks for good measure.
“Pauline,” she says into the mirror. “My name is Pauline.”
Whatever the others say, whatever they can think of to call her this time, now her armour is finished, she will always look happy.
That’s the wonderful thing.
© H J M McAlroy 2008