CLEANER II: Chapter Four - Part Seven

MELISSA 

It hadn’t crossed my mind that Dahlia would arrive before my gentleman friend left but it was actually kind of perfect because that meant that she got to see my little conquest; evidence if any more was needed that I had changed beyond recognition.

And what a conquest! I had never felt such heights of pleasure. I’d never even considered that I could find myself in such a situation. And I wanted more now; much more. I wanted everything and I was going to snatch it if ever I could.

When her knock came I hurried my lover to leave. My lover! I had no idea what his name was! Then as he went for the door I leant against the edge of the lavish sofa, wanting to show off my new physique. With my recent lipo and all the swimming I really felt as though she was going to be surprised.

I hadn’t considered how surprised I would be.

When Dahlia came into the suite, still looking back at my departing paramour, I was stunned to see her. She turned to face me and in that frozen moment we sized one another up, each of us open mouthed and flabbergasted.

In the two weeks since I had seen her she had swelled up like a ripening tomato. It was staggering how much she’d changed. It was as though her muscles had initially been able to hold in the extra weight she was gaining, but a limit had been reached and suddenly, unable to hold it in anymore, all the fat had plopped out on display.

Her torso was thick and plump with rolls of fat visible where her bra and knickers pinched. She was wearing a brown sleeveless button-up blouse and a skirt and her inflating arms were on display, as were her chunkier legs. Her thighs and ass were much wider than they had been. It was her face, though, which was most amazing.

It had distended enough now to really distort her features. With the bobbed hair making a crash helmet shape around her face and the circle of fat lowering her chin and merging it with her neck, her face had an entirely different shape. Add the glasses – and I could see she’d gone to an even thicker prescription now – and she was another person. At a glance she looked like the old me.

No, she wasn’t as fat as that… yet… but the acceleration toward obesity had been so rapid already, I saw no reason why she wouldn’t achieve the same girth or pass it within an even shorter time frame than we’d anticipated.

And as I examined her, so she examined me.

She had to see the contrast between us now. When we’d last met we had been close to the same size, which had been remarkable in itself, but she was past that now. I was the slimmer one. I still wasn’t close to where I wanted to be but I was the one able to hook a man now. There was no was the bloke who left would have been interested in this mousy, scared-looking fatty.

“Come in Melissa,” I said, underscoring her new identity. I said it with a slight edge today that she must have picked up on, that said, You’re really becoming me now. You’re more Melissa than I am. “You look… well,” I said. “They aren’t starving you at least.”

I smiled and Dahlia blushed furiously.

“Come over to the table,” I said, moving the conversation on without a pause for niceties. It was a pattern I had followed since we started this and it reinforced our different statuses. This wasn’t a social call. I didn’t want to hear about her trivialities and my own luxurious life was none of her business. As usual, she acted wary and guarded around me which gave me some satisfaction. Every time I saw her it made me feel more confident about my own repurposed identity and standing.

I said nothing while I took my seat and waited for Dahlia to take hers. I arranged the voice recorder as I normally did; all business; and pressed record. Dahlia waited submissively.

“Today I’m going to tell you about my husband Robert,” I said.

A slight frown creased Dahlia’s forehead.

“I haven’t gone into much detail about him before,” I said, “because I wanted to ensure he got the attention he deserved.”

… and because I hadn’t been able to think of a way to describe him that wouldn’t terrify her and make any fantasies I might have about a permanent swap impossible to achieve.

But I’d been thinking over this past two weeks, about a lot of things, and the best approach to this situation had presented itself late one night while I was sitting out on my balcony.

Dahlia had once told me how much she wished she had a loving husband; an established long-term partnership that felt comfortable and well-established. I couldn’t pretend I fully understood her reasons for pursuing this ridiculous swap, but the more I could layer in the positive elements of her fantasy, the more likely she might be to make some rash and irrevocable decision.

“The most important thing to know about Robert,” I said, “is that he is kind and thoughtful and he loves me… Melissa… very much.”

Dahlia’s mouth turned up at the edges and her gaze took on a wistful caste. I smiled on the inside like a predator bird.

“He makes me feel protected and looked after. And he makes it his goal every day to keep us both close together and happy.”

Dahlia’s smile grew and so did mine. I went on reeling out the lies and she went on drinking them down.

CLEANER II: Chapter Four - Part Six

DAHLIA

I hadn’t visited Melissa for two weeks, what with her taking a trip to get another round of liposuction done. I was nervous about it.

The expansion of my body wasn’t something that had occurred since she left – of course it wasn’t; it was a long ongoing process – but with the latest developments that morning it felt like something new and significant had occurred. It felt like something had shifted; something she would notice.

I was fatter now by a pound or four – maybe that would noticeable – but it was more the shift in my own perception, the ruminations I’d had in front of the mirror that morning; the new status quo with Maxine and the other cleaners.

I was always nervous when I went to see Melissa. In order to play the part we’d agreed on she operated with an aloof frostiness that did more than suggest superiority. She made me feel as though I was inferior to her and I guessed that was true. She was fitter and slimmer now. She was bettering herself; working hard with discipline to get stronger and healthier. I was making myself fatter and fatter; doing damage to my health to chase after a fantasy that bordered on mental illness. Even without the question of who controlled the money and the diametric roles we had taken on, she was a better person than I was.

But also I felt that she would see right through me. She would know that a shift had occurred in my thinking; that I’d followed her instructions to wallow in my new status.

I hated the idea of falling under her scrutiny. It chilled me. And my headache was no better.

The bus journey was just as long and uncomfortable as it always was. I was sweating a lot more now that I was fatter and the sweat was collecting in the folds of flesh around my bloated body. It was nice to get off my aching feet but my motion sickness was back in full force by the time I got there. I trudged to the Satine Palace, my nerves tinkling and faced the scornful glares of the reception staff. They had seen me coming and going for the past two months. They couldn’t know what our connection was but had they tried to guess? Had they noticed that as I grew fatter, Melissa became slimmer? I didn’t know. I hated and resented their air of superiority.

Ignoring them as best I could, I took the lift up to the penthouse floor and knocked on the door to Melissa’s suite.

There was a sound of rushed movement inside and then the door opened, not to reveal Melissa but to show a good looking man hurriedly doing up the buttons on his shirt. He flashed me a grin then darted into the lift just before it closed.

I watched him go then cleared my throat nervously and entered the room to face Melissa.

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CLEANER: Chapter Four - Part Five

MELISSA

I left the key card to my room with the man from the bar and went up to wait for him. I wanted to shower and make myself more presentable so I told him to wait thirty minutes before he climbed up to the penthouse. I was expecting Dahlia in the afternoon but we would have plenty of time before that.

I dipped in the shower quickly and left my hair curly and damp as I put on a sheer summer dress with a halter neck. Because of all the swimming my shoulders and arms were becoming wonderfully toned. This showed them off nicely. With that on I did my make-up quickly and efficiently until I stood there in front of the tall mirror, admiring myself.

It wasn’t just the sight of me that was altering my perception of myself. I could see how much slimmer and firmer I was now. It was the subtle and continuous changes in the way that other people acted around me: comments they made, like the compliments that Ambrus had paid me, the second look that men and women gave me, especially the hotel staff who, like Ambrus, had witnessed my rapid transformation across a continuum of time; the attentions and interest of this man. The way I saw myself was being altered by the reflections coming from others, and as it did so, my confidence was growing.

At first I had a sense of purpose and the knowledge of my assumed control of the money and over what happened to Dahlia, but this was different. This was a confidence in myself that I had never possessed before; a belief suddenly that I of all people could capture the treasure that was physical beauty and hold onto it; something I could never have believed was possible.

But I was becoming beautiful. Sort of. My facial features were still a little bland and my weight had a way to go, but I was a thousand leagues further down that path than I ever could have reached on my own.

A light knocking came on the door out of the suite and the lock buzzed as the man from the bar activated the key card. My whole body was flushed with nerves but I told myself to quiet. I wasn’t that silly fat woman Melissa Chapman anymore. She was out of sight and beneath my notice. I was Dahlia Western now. I was rich and slimmer and sexy. This man had approached me. He wanted me. Me!

“You weren’t kidding about it being the penthouse,” he said. “My room’s on the first floor. It’s a cupboard compared to this.”

“Do you like it?”

“Sure. I mean wow!”

I smiled. ”Let me give you the tour.”

He followed me as I took him from room to room and out on the balcony and it almost made me laugh how tactile he was, how close he came to me as we moved. He clearly wanted nothing more than to get down to doing the dirty. I liked that. I had little interest in engaging in a long conversation and didn’t feel as equipped as I would like to be to engage in such a thing. I wasn’t used to flirting with men.

I saw the wedding ring on his finger and it shocked me at first before I reminded myself that I didn’t want a romance. I only wanted a shag. After living with my husband Robert for so long I felt I needed one.

Robert. How did I feel about him now? Was I really going to casually throw away the fidelity of our marriage so casually; with so little forethought?

The man stroked the nape of my neck with his fingertip, running it down to my back and I turned suddenly, taking his face in my hands and kissing him hard on the lips.

Yes. Yes I was. Robert could hang for all I cared. He had mistreated me for far too long for me to care about him anymore. As far as I was concerned, I never wanted to see him again.

The kiss was penetrating but ever-fluctuating, as the man turned his head one way and the other, urgently pressing his tongue between my lips. For a moment it was too much but then a click came and I relaxed into it. He kissed my neck and I let out a gasp of pent-up release.

Had I ever felt such passion and desire? Perhaps as a teenager?

No. I hadn’t. Not like this.

He pulled at my dress and I snatched at his short sleeved shirt, exposing his tanned chest with its densely curled thatch of blond hair. I kissed his chest, working down to his nipple and biting it hard enough to make him groan. We went back against the open balcony door and he popped out one of my breasts, nuzzling in softly, moaning with desire.

I wanted to cry out, Yes! At last! This is what I deserve! But I didn’t. He closed his mouth over mine again and we went down on the floor there at the mouth of the balcony, the perfect blue sky stretching out above us.

He was gentle and kind but he wanted me with the passion of a young man. I let him take what he wanted, relaxing into the intense build-up of pleasure.

This was the life I wanted, now and forever. This was me now. This was who I am.

And thinking that made me realise that I couldn’t give this up; not ever.

Not.

Ever.

The man scratched my sides and I squealed with excitement, throwing back my head as he buried his head in my stomach and started to work his way down.

There could only be one Dahlia Western and that had to be me.

I had to do everything in my power to make that happen.

I had to take the life that must surely now be meant for me.

CLEANER: Chapter Four - Part Four

MELISSA

My arms and legs felt strong and sure as I front crawled my way up the outdoor hotel swimming pool and back down again. Swimming had to be the best exercise possible and since coming to Greece I had really built up my stamina. It was unbelievable to think how far I had come. Initially I had struggled to doggy-paddle a single width. Now I could do lengths for an hour at a time without too much of a struggle.

Boredom was my biggest obstacle with it but I’d purchased a water-resistant music centre so that wasn’t a problem. And I’d loaded it with the recordings I had made of Dahlia’s reminiscences about her life. I listened to them over and over again, absorbing the information about her life and career; about the different people she knew and the way she interacted with them.

I did at least three hour long swims a day now and I was thinking of building that up to longer endurance swims of two or three hours. Plus the jogging. Plus the rowing machine and the cross trainer. Plus the squats and the sit-ups.

I was maniacal and obsessive and I was loving it.

I diverted to the pool’s exit ladder and climbed it quickly, the water cascading off me in the bright sunshine. I felt great and I was just starting to look great too. I still had a good way to go but the training was working wonders. It was amazing what unlimited time and unlimited money could achieve if coupled with desperate yearning.

I heard clapping and smiled when I saw my personal trainer, Ambrus, leaning against a table, watching me emerge. “If I had not seen you every day then I would not believe my eyes Miss Western,” he said. “Your progress has been spectacular.”

I beamed proudly and unreservedly, looking down at myself. I couldn’t believe it either. I still wasn’t slim as such; not yet; but the steps I had taken had carried me so far. The laser liposuction treatments had removed bulk from all the difficult areas and the five star beauty treatments I’d supported it with were ensuring I downgraded my weight gracefully and without unsightly side effects. Coupled with obsessional exercise and regimented diet, I was further along with my diabolical master plan than I could ever have expected.

“How do you feel?” asked Ambrus. “You look great!”

“Fabulous,” I replied. “Really fabulous. Just look at me.”

“I am looking. It is remarkable. I have never had such a great success before. I should take your picture and put it on my flyers.”

I took up my towel and dried my hair. My hair was fuller now and looked lovely in the bright Mediterranean sunshine. I patted my arms and my legs, loving the thinner me.

“Most women would be happy with what you have achieved so far,” said Ambrus.

“Not me,” I replied with a grin. “I’m going all the way. Now that I’ve gone this far I can see that there isn’t really any kind of barrier. I can be as slim as I want.” I shook my head ruefully. “All these years, how fat I’ve been… I never realised that it was even possible to change. I thought I was trapped in that ridiculous fat suit; like I’d never get out of it.”

He nodded and I became quiet; reflective.

“Thank you,” I said. “Really. I couldn’t have done this without you. And there’s still a long way to go. I’m hoping you’ll stay with me to the end.”

“I couldn’t let my best client down, could I?”

I said goodbye to him and picked up my bag, heading toward the bar. He’d be back later but to be honest I didn’t need him anywhere near as much now. The training was habitual now. It was like these awful boot camp things except over a far more enduring period and it was visibly getting me the results that I wanted now. I was getting slimmer by the day, going down size after size. And it wasn’t just the actual loss of weight. My greater fitness was improving my posture and muscle tone so that what fat I did still have was held in more convincingly.

The pool bar was a circular stand with a straw roof. Half a dozen hotel guests sat on tall stools around it while the Greek barmaid hurried lackadaisically round to take their orders. I took a seat and ordered some fresh fruit juice. I hadn’t drunk alcohol in three weeks and that was unheard of. But I felt better for it; a lot better.

I got the drink and slugged it down swiftly, enjoying the flush of taste and refreshment. It wasn’t until I set down the empty glass that I noticed the dishy man sitting across from me who was watching me with a gentle smile on his face.

He was in his mid-thirties with tanned skin, curly blond hair and dimples and it took me a minute to register his attention and what it meant because this was the first time – in my life – that this had happened to me: that a handsome man had flirted with me using his eyes; had looked at me with lust and admiration roiling inside of him.

I had to check myself; look down at my toned legs and slimmer stomach; my cleavage; to believe he wasn’t checking out somebody else.

I was like a schoolgirl on the inside but I knew I couldn’t show it. I just gave him a little nod and raised the corners of my mouth then ordered another drink. He picked his glass up and sauntered round to my side of the circular bar.

There was an empty seat beside me.

He took it.

Still I didn’t look at him.

Then finally I turned and let him enjoy the sight of my generous cleavage before I let him know that I was willing to talk.

CLEANER: Chapter Four - Part Three

DAHLIA

When I got downstairs, Maxine and the other cleaners were hanging around just outside the main entrance smoking cigarettes and chatting. Maxine was the loudest as usual, ruling the roost, gabbling on in her provincial UK accent. When I saw them I got the usual butterflies in my stomach, but it was worse today somehow, probably because I had been reflecting on how far I’d changed.

Weight gain was a funny thing. It crept up on me slowly with only periodic realisations of how far it had gone; how much more deeply I’d entered the world of obesity… because surely I must be classed as obese now. Since my last realisation I’d grown used enough to being plump that my observations this morning had been another level of shock. It didn’t help that Maxine and the other girls had taken to calling a particular nickname.

“Hey look!” she cried jovially. “Here comes Chubby!”

The other cleaners looked my way and smirked. The wind went out of my sails and I slowed my pace.

“Blimey but you’re getting fat now,” said Maxine. She nudged the girl next to her wither her elbow, a new girl who had only been working at the hotel for a few days but was already more in with the other cleaners than I was. “When she started working here she was thinner than me,” she said. “Now look at her.”

The cleaners sniggered and Maxine gave a brazen laugh. Eager to ingratiate myself with them I made myself chuckle too, even though it felt like a betrayal of myself.

Every time I went to see Melissa she asked me if the other cleaners had accepted me as one of them yet and I was feeling the pressure of that as increasing desperation.

“You’re going to need yet another uniform soon Chubby,” crowed Maxine. “That one looks like the buttons are about to pop. It’s the unlimited food here,” she said to the new girl. “It’s a killer.”

“Yeah,” I said, eager to please and smiling like a fool. “It’s ‘cause I’m such a pig. I can’t help myself. The buffet’s like a trough. I just stick my snout in a gobble up everything I can.”

All the women laughed and I laughed with them, but I knew they weren’t laughing with me – they were laughing at me – and it made me hate myself, even as I went on laughing.

“Actually that would be a better name for you Chubby,” said Maxine. “Now you’re getting so fat. You aren’t just chubby anymore, are you?”

They all looked at me and I felt I had to fill the pause. “No.”

“Now you really do look like a pig.” They all laughed. “What do you think to the name Little Piggy?”

The smile dropped off my face and the women laughed all the more.

“What do you think Piggy?” asked Maxine.

I thought about Melissa and her admonition that I should do anything I could to fit in and I said. “Well if the shoe fits…” I grinned. “It’s nothing if not descriptive.”

They all laughed and I laughed with them, but this time it felt like there was genuine camaraderie.

Maxine nudged the new girl. “Piggy isn’t so bad when you get to know her. She thought she was lady muck when she got here but she’s alright really.”

I smiled with relief to hear that: the first real hint that I wouldn’t be ostracised anymore.

“She’s not a bad worker I suppose,” said Maxine. “She does half my work for me, so she can’t be that bad!” She laughed loudly. “Isn’t that right Piggy?”

The headache pulsed behind my eyes, drawing the moisture out of them but I gave her another grin and nodded eagerly. “All part of the service.”

Maxine smiled, stepping out of the group and grinding out her cigarette with her foot. Immediately, in response to the unspoken command, the group started to disperse. “You should maybe join us for poker tonight Little Piggy,” she said. “Give me a chance to steal most of your wages as well. That would be hilarious!”

I nodded happily, keen to accept the invitation that had never before been presented. This was so positive. It meant I was really making some headway into being one of the gang.

The girls dispersed, leaving me standing in thought. I imagined myself at their poker table in the staff room, drinking beer and laughing, then I had a little fantasy about letting Maxine win so that she really did take most of my earnings. That brought the rosy feeling back between my legs.

I felt my roll of stomach fat, chewing the name they’d christened me over in my mind, trying to purposely alter my self-image to fit in line with it. I pictured myself as other’s might see me except in my mind I pushed the bloating even further and I imagined myself with the head and trotters of a pink-skinned pig.

I had been a famously beautiful model on the verge of a spectacular comeback.

Now look at me.

I was a fat cleaner at a rundown Greek hotel, submissively doing everything I could to ingratiate myself with minimum wage domestic staff who did nothing but run me down.

Had my self-image altered so much that I could allow this?

But then, I wasn’t a beauty anymore. I really was getting as fat as a pig. I couldn’t expect any better treatment and I needed to put up with it if I wanted them to be my friends.

Somebody like me couldn’t expect better treatment like this and at least they were including me now. I’d much rather be made fun of a bit than be excluded.

It was worth being called Little Piggy to achieve that.

I walked back inside the hotel to start my duties but paused when I saw the cook come out of the back corridor, looking as greasy and dishevelled as always.

He looked at me and gave me his usual suggestive leer. Normally I looked away but this time I went on with the eye contact and perhaps emboldened by that, he gave me a little wink.

I wasn’t better than these people. Not anymore. I felt like I’d been telling myself I was on the sly, no matter how much I tried to get down to their level. Things felt different now. I was Little Piggy now. I’d accepted that nickname gladly. I wasn’t superior to any of these people; quite the opposite.

I made a decision.

If the cook made another pass at me then I wouldn’t put him off. Next time I would say yes. I’d spread my legs for him if he wanted me.

He gave me another brief leery smirk and this time I smiled back.

Yes. If he wanted me then he could have me any way that he wanted.

CLEANER: Chapter Four - Part Two

DAHLIA

When I opened my eyes the room was still very dim, what early morning light there was restricted by the tiny window. My vision was blurry. It was always blurry now. With constant wear of my glasses I had pushed my vision three prescription notches away from normal, sufficient to effectively ruin my eyesight when I wasn’t wearing them.

I turned off the alarm then lay in bed thinking about that.

My eyes were so used to the glasses now that I couldn’t see straight without them. I only had two more prescriptions to go before I reached the same one that... the original Melissa had worn. I wondered if I was ready to go up another notch already. My brain had been able to keep up with each progressive change so far, adjusting to the focus distortion until I could see again. Maybe I could. What would that feel like?

I lay there imagining the thicker lenses, the heavier frames on my face. I imagined taking them off a week from now and having even worse eyesight, like looking into pools of rippling water. I got a dreamy sense of mild euphoria, my mind trundling along considering each aspect of that, the sensations I would feel; the impact it would have on my long term vision.

Was I permanently damaging my eyesight? Would I have to wear thick glasses for the rest of my life?

The headache I seemed to have all the time now crept up the back of my head, making my scalp feel too tight for the skull inside it.

I sat up on the edge of the bed and sighed. I didn’t have time to waste ruminating. I had to get ready for my cleaning duties.

I was weary in a way I hadn’t felt before coming to Greece: partly the limited sleep I was getting before the daily grind began day after day, and partly the extra weight I was carrying now.

I put on my glasses and went to the mirror to look at myself.

The woman I had been; the slim and beautiful super model; was well and truly gone now.

Over the past two months I had consumed perhaps five or six times as much food each day as I might have done in my old life. All-you-can-eat breakfast buffet followed by all-you-can-eat lunch and all-you-can-eat dinner. On top of that I had chocolate and crisp snacks throughout the day, swilled down with Coca Cola and a doggy bag of dinner leftovers that I troughed on before bed that amounted to another large meal.

I had put on a lot of weight. A lot.

The extra fat had gone onto my stomach making a pillowy fold distending my waistline. It had gone onto my thighs and buttocks, swelling them. It had gone onto my upper arms giving me growing bingo wings that rippled like liquid when I made rapid movements like when I was mopping the hotel floors. It had gone into my breasts, making them swell, becoming rounder, but also making them hang differently; deeper. Most disturbingly it had gone onto my face.

My eyes, nose and mouth were in the same place but as my cheeks and neck showed greater and greater signs of thickening it was becoming like those features were a little mask placed on the front of a head too large to fit it.

With the bobbed brown hair and the glasses I was looking more like the real Melissa than ever. My features were still my own but the extra fat showed me now that we really hadn’t been that different in the first place. Our eyes were the same shape, equally placed and the proportions were a close match.

I wasn’t Dahlia anymore. Nobody would have recognised me; not immediately at least, and certainly not without a sense of shock, disbelief… and disgust.

Looking at myself I was filled with that same sense of disapproving wonder now. I couldn’t believe I’d really gone through with this; that I’d actively pursued the destruction of my beauty. But surely that beauty was gone now, at least by the standards of most men and women. A minority of people might have found me attractive now; those who liked big women; but to the bulk of the population I was no longer a sex object at all. I was just a fat woman, barely worth a glance; someone who sank into the background in any situation with her mousy hair and squinting, befuddled-looking eyes.

The headache got worse, sucking at the backs of my eyeballs.

I pressed my eyes tight shut and rubbed my pulse points in little circles.

The room was a mess, clothes on the floor, sweet, crisp and kebab wrappers, pizza boxes and empty Coke bottles discarded on any surface available. I spent so long cleaning in the day that I couldn’t face doing it in my own space. There was half a bottle of gin still open next to the little TV. I eyed it, wondering if a tipple or two before work would help with my headache.

I had a brief shower instead, not bothering to wash my hair then put on my cleaning uniform.

The first one I’d been given was still hanging in the wardrobe, untouched for weeks. I had gone up two sizes since then. It was laughable how tiny that one looked now compared to the one I had to wear now, and this one was straining at the seams. Tight across the folds of fat, it accentuated them in a way that was both horrifying and fascinating to me.

I looked at myself in the mirror now, dressed in the garb of my role.

It didn’t feel odd anymore, so much time had gone by of daily toil, but I was being reflective this morning and I regarded the type of person the uniform made me look like, especially with the added bulk I’d gained.

I went to the bedside drawer and took out the pair of glasses with the next prescription up. I took off the ones I was wearing, pitching my vision out of focus, and placed the new, heavier frames on my face.

My vision distorted again, making it harder for me to see… but not impossible. I squinted, giving my brain the command to begin getting used to them.

Just one more pair after this and my eyesight would be as bad as the original Melissa’s had been.

The headache got worse behind my eyes but that same sense of dreamy euphoria returned anyway, a pink glow that centred on my lower regions.

I looked at my reflection, distorted though it was, and smiled at the fat, plain woman looking back at me; the hotel cleaner.

That was me. I had really changed. And I was going to go on changing.

Every day I got a little fatter; my eyesight grew progressively worse. One day soon I would be as close to being the original Melissa as it was possible to get.