‘You’ve never been much wider than a stick,’ she said to her daughter. ‘But now you’re getting quite a tummy. No boy will look at you in future years if you let yourself get fat.’
The girl agreed and tried to cut back on meals but it made no difference.
By July her mother was annoyed. ‘I cannot afford a new school uniform for you, especially as you will only need it till the end of this year,’ she said. It had been decided that the girl would leave school and begin a shorthand and typing course in Wagga Wagga in the new year. And so her mother took her to see Mrs Clay, the seamstress, so that her uniform could be let out.
‘Undress down to your petticoat,’ Mrs Clay commanded, ‘and I will measure you.’ She obeyed, but as Mrs Clay put the tape measure around the girl’s belly, she let out a
