This is just a little thing I was trying out about a background story for Maureen.

Hi. My name is Maureen, and I'm married to my partner, Joanne. We've got two beautiful daughters, Mia and Ruby, even a puppy, Alfie. But my life hasn't always been so wonderful.

I was born Maureen Emily Johnson, born into a working class family with a nice house and a pleasant neighbourhood. I had a Mom, Tracie, and a sister, Kristen. My father divorced my mother when I was eleven, and moved out when I was eight. That's why I've always craved a happy family.

Kristen is five years younger than me, and we've never been that close. Of course, we've had the customary family photos, me and Kristen hugging, roller skating, dancing together. But I don't think I've ever felt more than a shred of emotion towards her, even though we're related by blood.

Then, when I was twelve and Kristen was seven, Dad remarried. A woman named Lauren. She had a son of her own, George. Dad never really took to George, he liked to goad him and make him feel bad. Sometimes I'd join in, just to be with my dad. And sometimes I'd sit out, watching, pitying him. Then, a few months later, my half-sister Alyssa arrived. I adored her. She was so beautiful, so sweet. I loved playing with her when I visited Dad once a week.

Then, I got accepted into one of the most prestigious schools in the state, Scarsdale High School for Girls. I knew I only got it because of my slogging work, the tutoring my Mom had so painstakingly paid for each week. I felt I didn't deserve to be there. All the others were naturally clever, the work was easy. For me, it was anything but.

But still, I went there, and for the first couple of years, it was great. I made good friends and I liked the teachers and the school well enough.

Then it was time to up my game as I grew nearer my big exams. Mom started getting on at me a lot, telling me I'd ruin my future if I didn't get all of the best grades. I'd be sat in my room, revising my notes, and Kristen would knock on my door, laugh and run away. Outside. Free.

I'd want to rebel, and then I'd just sit there, not knowing how. So I'd rebel in the way I knew how. I'd eat loads, gorge on 'forbidden' chocolate and sweets, get back at Mom in any way possible.

Ever since I then, my Mom and I have never had a good relationship. Too much friction between us, all the times she'd yell at me, I'd yell back. We'd fight; scream at each other, then make up. But not for long. The next day we'd fight about something else.



And another thing. For as long as I can remember, Mom's been talking about my weight. True, I've always been well-built, some might say chubby, even. From age eleven, she had me on a constant diet. Carefully planned menus for maximised weight loss. I can still hear the voices in my head.

"Think about it Maureen. On the beach this summer. You'll be so pretty if you lost a few pounds, and I'll be so proud of you."

And to top it all of, Kristen was the beauty. She had the brains, too. She had the perfect body; she could eat whatever she wanted and stay so skinny. Sometimes I'd just cry because I was so unhappy.

And that's what spiralled my out of control anorexia in my late teens. I stopped eating when I went to university. I thought that if I was slim, Mom would love me more, and stop the nagging that had been going on for as long as I could remember.

When my weight reached 5 and a half stone, dangerous for my 5ft 6in height, I was hospitalised, and drip fed. That's why I don't like hospitals now. Too many bad memories of the six months I spent hooked up to machinery.

When I recovered, I was twenty. I re-enrolled in university, and that's where I met Mark. And I think you know where it goes from there.

Hope you liked it, please review.