Chloe Sims - The Only Way is Up - My Story. Chloe Sims
no one ever wore the regulation PE kit, which was basically a big pair of black granny knickers – instead, they used to wear black cycling shorts. For some reason, I had decided to wear white cycling shorts, and at the end of the lesson I realised I had come on my period in the middle of the class. There was a small leakage in the crotch of my shorts so I just stuffed them in the top of my bag to sort out later.
Next thing, we were in a French class and one of the boys – I can’t remember his name – got a metal metre ruler out, leaned over and fished my shorts out of the bag. Because I had taken them off in a hurry, they were inside out and when he flicked them on the floor they landed with the bloodstain in full view of the class. Everyone saw the blood and the whole class started shouting, ‘Eurgh, that’s disgusting!’ and making vomiting noises.
I just put my head down on the desk and started crying. Everyone was tormenting me and yet the teacher said nothing. I was so mortified. The next thing was everyone in my class told everyone else, and within hours it went round the whole school. What was even worse was the fact that the story was obviously embellished along the way, as kids do, and the cycling shorts became a pair of lace knickers that were now ‘covered’ in blood.
What happened haunted me for months – even to this day it’s one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.
Through all this, Helen and I became the best of friends and soon we were inseparable. She is still one of my best friends today. I really looked up to her at the beginning and even tried to cut my hair like her because she fitted in and I didn’t. Eventually, I stopped caring about the bullies because I had Helen, who was cool and popular.
When the bullies eventually realised I wasn’t bothered any more, they stopped doing it quite so much. Helen was my rock – she was good-looking but shy, whereas I was more confident and we made a good team. We used to stay at each other’s house all the time and our likes and dislikes became the same: we were both into clothes and make-up, and used to dress the same.
I was never any good at school – I just wasn’t interested. I cared more about false eyelashes and fake tan. I had a problem with authority and I didn’t care about academic qualifications. I’d decided I wanted to be a model so I wasn’t bothered about exams. It was ironic – I’d gone from being a nerd and being called ugly to wanting to become a model. I was determined to prove them all wrong.
I told my dad I wanted to be a model and kept asking him if I could enter modelling competitions but he always said no. Then, when I was 15, there was an advert in the Romford Recorder for a modelling competition organised by the newspaper. My dad told me I could enter and I was over the moon. I had my pictures taken and the photographer told me I had potential. The results were based on a public vote and, of course, no one voted for me because we didn’t really have any friends or family who read the Romford Recorder.
However, as well as being told I had potential, they later used my picture on the front page of the Romford Recorder to advertise the modelling competition. That was it for me: I’d had a taste of it and now I had real ambition. I was far more interested in becoming a model than in being at school, and I never tried very hard in my lessons after that.
It was also around this time that I discovered boys and there were two lads in my year at school that everyone fancied – Danny Sawkins and Danny Emberson. Danny Sawkins was the fittest in the school; he looked like a young Ben Affleck. Literally, the whole school was after him and I tried to ask him out, but he wouldn’t go out with me. He called me a fuck-up!
Danny Emberson, on the other hand, was more of a bad guy. Me and my best friend, Helen, started hanging around with him and a few of his friends. I really liked him, we got on well, and we used to hang around together all time. We were too young to get into any pubs or anything, so we used to just hang around the streets – we called it street raking – and me and Danny would always chat.
I guess, looking back, it was flirting but I didn’t have a clue back then! We went on like that for ages and eventually he asked me out, but it took a long time to get to the boyfriend and girlfriend stage.
I think in the beginning he was embarrassed because of all the names I got called – I don’t think he wanted everyone to know we were together, but eventually he made it official. When he said, ‘Will you be my girlfriend?’ I thought it was the best thing ever! I couldn’t believe it – I was the one everyone had called ugly and now I was going out with one of the most popular blokes in the school.
As soon as we started dating, the bullying completely stopped – he went round to all the people who had ever been nasty to me and threatened them! Me and Danny soon became inseparable. He had long hair and everyone thought he was really cool. But he smoked, which I didn’t like. My family were really anti-smoking, and my dad didn’t approve and never seemed to like Danny. I’m not sure why but I guess it’s because he was my first boyfriend. Plus, I don’t think Dad would have liked anyone I went out with! I guess that’s a dad’s job. He was just being protective of his little girl – no man was good enough – plus, he didn’t like the fact that Danny hung around on street corners. Only now, as a mum myself, I understand him; I wouldn’t want that for my girl either.
We dated for a year and we literally spent all our time together – he was my first love. On my 16th birthday, he bought me a ring and everything; I proper loved him. I would have married him, which looking back now is hilarious!
After we had been together a while, we slept together – he was my first – and I fell even more in love.
I thought everything was perfect – his mum and dad were really nice and always made me feel welcome at their house and Danny was the love of my life – but, while our relationship was amazing, my schoolwork was going downhill fast.
I started dressing up, always had fake nails on and wore false eyelashes, mini-skirts and heels. I didn’t care about school at all – in fact, I hated all the teachers and I bunked off a few times with a big gang of people. Because there were so many of us missing, we always seemed to get caught!
One day, a few of us had decided to skive off early and I went back to my friend Claire’s house. She lived not far from the school and her mum was out at work so we didn’t think we’d get caught. Unfortunately, the school had phoned her mum at work and told her Claire wasn’t there, so she rang home and started shouting at her. I was petrified she would tell my dad, who I knew would be absolutely furious, so we came up with a plan: we put a boiling-hot flannel on Claire’s forehead and she lay down on the couch.
When her mum got home, we pretended that Claire had been feeling sick and dizzy, and I had helped her home because I didn’t want to let her go on her own. We didn’t really think we’d get away with it, but her mum fell for it! We must have been pretty convincing because she totally swallowed it. She told me that, if my dad said anything, she would speak to him and tell him what had happened.
I knew he would see through it straight away if I told him, but he was much more likely to believe another adult. So I went home and Dad was furious. I was shitting myself all the way home because I didn’t think he’d fall for our story, and I was dreading what would happen as soon as I opened the front door. The next thing, he yelled, ‘You are in big trouble, young lady! You’re grounded.’
Being grounded was the worst thing ever – my dad was really strict and he was always grounding me and I hated it. It didn’t just mean I wasn’t allowed out, it also meant that I wasn’t allowed any contact with the outside world. I was banned from using the phone and he even used to take my telly out of my room. It was like torture – I used to sit and watch the buses go past because there was nothing else to do.
Anyway, on that day, I was determined not to get grounded so I told him my made-up story about Claire being ill, but he was having none of it. I said, if he didn’t believe me, he could ring Claire’s mum. I thought he’d say no and just ground me anyway, but he went off and rang her. She said I had been really kind, helping Claire home when she wasn’t feeling well. I couldn’t believe my luck – I’d got out of it!
So there I am all happy because