FATTY FAT FAT

Katie Greenall

• Publisher: Salamander Street Ltd.
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781913630737
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

Ever feel like your body takes up too much space in a world that doesn't want to make any room? Katie is fat. Pretty much always been fat, and will be fat forever.FATTY FAT FAT is a funny, frank and provocative solo show about living in a body the world tells you to hate. Leave your diet books at the door.'A funny, tender, poignant and important show which doesn't tie the story up in a neat bow because life isn't about convenient happy endings. Greenall has created a piece of art that will live with you long after you leave the room' Catherine Renton, The Wee Review'Greenall is not just performing a show, she's performing a radical act; one that sticks a middle finger up to society's expectations, puts fat bodies front and centre, and does the 'Cha Cha Slide' while she's at it.' Katharine Gemmell, The List'In today's society, her voice is needed so desperately and I couldn't recommend this piece enough. I laughed throughout but left knowing that things need to change – and that we all need to be part of the solution.'Esme Leitch, Feminist Fringe

The house opens. The stage is bare apart from three silver helium balloons acting as plump platinum backdrop.

They unapologetically spell the word FAT.

Beneath them stands Katie.

The Cha Cha Slide by DJ Casper is playing on repeat. Katie is doing the prescribed routine over and over, interacting with the audience and encouraging them to join in. It is clear from this point that this show is not a ‘conventional play’. This a celebration. A party. A show with a tangible sense of joy, nostalgia and tenderness.

As the house closes Katie is still going.

She is still going.

The song is looping and Katie is visibly tired & probably very sweaty. She probably makes a joke about being tired and sweaty. She softens the audience when she can – but never at her own expense. Regardless she appears to be enjoying herself.

Eventually a projection appears behind her.

A picture of nine-year-old Katie appears as music and lights fade.

She stops dancing, takes everyone in and then begins.

Nine years old.

The Cha Cha Slide has just come out and it is a BANGER. I’d say it’s in the top five party songs of all time.

One is the YMCA – obviously.

Two is the Macarena,

Three, I would say it’s the Cha Cha Slide,

Four is Candy, (even though I never do it because I just feeling embarrassingly white),

And five is a curve ball. I think it’s The Cheeky Girls song. Because I’m pretty sure that’s how I learnt to move my hips, and that is a gift the world will forever be grateful for.

Have I missed any?

Katie encourages the audience to offer suggestions. Actual suggestions, even if they don’t want to. Katie reacts and interacts with them. Someone seems to always mention ‘Saturday Night’ much to Katie’s delight.

I like a song with a set routine. So another classic is Oops Upside Your Head. An absolute banger because it combines two of my favourite things: dancing…and sitting down.

Anyway, I digress. I’ve just got my first Walkman and so CDs are like all I want right now. I spend hours delving through the bargain bucket of Woolworths building up what I’m sure is going to be a hugely valuable collection. One day, my mum picks me up from school, she asks me the classic questions:

‘How was your day?’

and

‘What did you have for lunch?’,

before saying there’s a present for me in her handbag.

My pudgy fingers delve excited into the coloured leather of her handbag, dancing around her lip gloss and Nokia until they feel the familiar plastic of a CD case.

Pause.

The Cha Cha fucking Slide!

I thank her enthusiastically, already imagining the jealous grimace on my ex-best friend Lauren Chaffyn’s face tomorrow morning.

‘You’re welcome,’ my Mum says.

‘I thought you could put it in your Walkman and use it as an exercise tape.’

Cha Cha Slide ends.

Another picture of Katie appears, this time at five years old, as music and lights fade.

The Thomas the Tank Engine Theme plays loudly. After a few seconds it fades to a volume that can be spoken over

Five years old.

It’s World Book Day, and my mum has taken a long time over my costume. Three of the girls in my class are Pippi Longstocking, with wired plaits and stripy socks that refuse to stay up.

But I am feeling majestic because I have been chosen by Mrs Wells as the best dressed, not just in my class, but the WHOLE YEAR. So I sashay across the muddy lino in the school hall, leaving Spot the Dogs and Hermione Grangers in my wake-because I know today I reign supreme.

We sit in our neat rows, my costume is not comfortable to sit cross legged in, but despite being five years old I am acutely aware that one must suffer for one’s art.

Mrs Hitchcock, the Headteacher, invites the winners of each year group to stand up, show their costume and announce who they are to the whole school.

The little girl from Reception is clearly cute, but her Alice in Wonderland costume is missing attention to detail. The boy from year 1’s handmade cardboard dinosaur is impressive, but his face paint is already smudged with his own spit.

Then it’s my turn.

I rise proudly from the mass of cheap wigs and cuddly toys, standing regally in everyone’s expectant gaze.

Then I repeat, just like my mother told me…

‘I am dressed as the Fat Controller from Thomas the Tank Engine.’

Thomas the Tank Engine Theme ends.

The next picture appears of Katie at eleven years old, as Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield plays loudly. After a few seconds it fades to a volume that can be spoken over.

Eleven years old.

We’re sat in Mum’s blue Honda CR-V, listening to Radio 2. Like we always do. Except its Jeremy Vine time and he’s just argumentative and shit. This doesn’t help my mood, some classic easy listening tunes, are more what I’m looking for this afternoon. Well, let’s be honest I’d rather listen to Natasha Bedingfield because her latest song is a TUNE.

It’s summer so the sunroof is open, I feel the fresh air of the M27 stroke my hair and I rest my hand in my mum’s.

It’s not dangerous because she drives an automatic, so she doesn’t need it anyway.

Holding my mum’s hand always calms me down. Our fingers interlock like a lifeboat, stopping us both from sinking and I need it today because I am feeling a little bit nervous.

Because I am about to be hypnotised – by mum’s friend Karen from the tennis club.

Now apart from this lady swinging a watch in front of my face, I don’t really know what to expect. All I know is that I’m about to be hypnotised to stop me being fat.

And to stop biting my nails.

But mainly the fat thing.

The picture disappears as music fades to silence.

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Table of contents

• Front Cover
• Half-Title Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Fatty Fat Fat