2017 / 12 / 26
All of us kids had some sort of superpowers – a skill our parents were really proud of. My eldest sister could play the violin one handed. She was the fastest swimmer in her club and do a lap in olympic standard time. She was also gifted in languages and can now speak 9 fluently. My brother was the fastest sprinter in his class, then our school and eventaully our boro. My youngest sister was a child prodigy artist and won various prizes for a national magazine. She got in to uni when she was just 17, studied medicine and got a 1.1. And me - I could eat a whole packet of fig rolls in 5 minutes.
This was how us 4 would always be introduced to our parents’ friends. And when we were in our young teens – with only 3 years between us due to our mum having twins and getting pregnant with only 11 months between the 1st and 2nd child - there was a lot of sibling rivally so we’d gloat over or be very envious at speedo sam sprinty or laugh a lap lou lou or drawing dorethy. Or figgy franky. Figgy franky always got the most laughs with the parents and other kids. Especaillly when it included the part were i get a bad stomach ache. And there’d be howls of laugh when it would be topped off with the diarriah finalle. For a while I was the the family celebrity.
But as we go into our adolescene years the elogy of figgy frank seemed to slip somewhere from being an hilarious ancedote into being a tease. And by the end of our teenage years Figgy Frankie had now become a downright insult. Somewhere along the line I’d gone from wolfing down packets of fig rolls to never wanting to see them again. I even got figrollaphobia. Just the site of them when i’d be in the supermarket would trigger off some sort of panic attack. Which would then see me going into a café and sitting in front of a large coffee and donut for over an hour. I am sure that this is the reason that over the years I had no partners and lead to my not being able to get into universtiy or keep a steady job. I changed my name be depol from Frances to Wilma. Perhaps most traumatically of all it was why at 25 i was still a virgin. I considered myself atractive enuf and would just happen to provacativly have my top button undone in certain company revealing a bit of clevage and wisp of my bra. But when things started getting a little hot with the other sex boys would shun me when i’d confide in the fig roll episode. How i wanted to be lusted after. But I wanted them to want me not just for my body but also for my traumas – well, trauma. I only had one trauma. Apart from the fig roll story I had done nothing.
Then one day, after hearing on a radio phone in about new years resolutions, I decided it was finally time to put the ghosts to rest and come to terms with my figrollaphobia. Days turned into weeks and a plot started to brew… Early spring and finally with a defintie plan and a firm resolve i sat in front of 2 giant packs of figs rolls on bogof ( buy one get one free) offer from the local supermarket. I opened the pack. The very first fig roll tasted sweet – even sweeter than I’d remember. 4 mins and 30 seconds on I’d eaten the entire pack. I opened the 2nd pack.
Over the next 6 months I was to eat so many packets of fig rolls – i lost count after 99. When we meet up at our mother's funeral Lou, Simon and Dorethy all joked about my putting on weight. However I have managed to get and hold on to a steady job. I am now back to calling myself Frankie and on family birthday cards sign myself Figgy Frankie. I have had sex with 3 different blokes - well 5 if u consider the 2 who couldnt ‘perform’. I’ve also slept with a couple of women which I found rather nicer than I’d anticipated.
The strange thing is now I don’t feel the need to eat or not eat fig rolls. I feel I had been wasting my life. And now I’ve regained it... only to find those jobs i couldn’t hold down are actually boring which is perhaps the real reason I never kept a job down. And though I enjoyed the sex it simply wasn’t the earth shattering experience I was expecting. When I started on this quest to overcome my figrollaphobia I thought i would find a conclussion . Now I feel life – at least for me - is simply a continuation of where I’m at at the moment. And quite honelsy I’m finding it all pretty boring. But without the fig rolls phobia i also find it quite pleasant in its boringness. Now I feel life is pleasantly boring and I am boring pleasant. And fuck the fig rolls. Thank u :)
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