Read My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding Online

Authors: Katya Starkey

Tags: #Chick-Lit

My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding (24 page)

BOOK: My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding
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“Hooray.” I stare with a bit less glee at the inner contents of the bath. It will give me more exercise when I’m forced to wring the hell out of these clothes. There’s a feeling of doubt creeping into my mind again though.

Shrugging my shoulders, I get on with the task at hand. I figure I’m just excited to be getting on with the next bit of Fat Bride book advice that I’m sure will clear up my doubtful thoughts for good.

 

***

I get straight into the tip in the book that suggests a process I’m trying out.

“You fat bitch! You horrible disgusting mess! You are a whale of a woman and you look like a blimp!”

Callum arrives home to find me shouting at myself while standing in front of our full length bedroom mirror.

“What the fuck are you doing, Em?”

Oh my. He looks angry.

“I… I… What do you mean, honey?” I’m confused by his sudden appearance in the room, not to mention his vehement language.

“What do you think I mean?” He’s very frowny as he walks toward me. “Just what do you think you’re doing saying things like that to yourself?”

I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know why he seems so angry at me. I’m deeply confused and I can’t figure out why this is. “I was just doing what the book said.”

“Book? What book?”

I tie up my dressing gown. I’d been letting it hang open while staring at myself in the mirror as this was the advice from Dr Shield. “That book,” I reply sheepishly. Pointing at the bed, I watch as he strides forward and scoops up my Kindle.

If I thought my fiancé was frowning before, it’s nothing compared to the way his brows draw together as she flicks through the pages of the eReader screen. “For fuck sake.” I hear him mumble this a few times. “For fuck sake, Em!” Now he says his swear words a lot louder. “What is this crap? Fat Bitch equals Fat Bride, my arse. You are not fat and have never been. You are not going to walk down any aisle as a fat bride, because that’s just not possible. Even if you were fat you still shouldn’t be reading an idiot book like this… Oh my god, Em—”

I’ve lost it. I burry my face in my hands and start weeping openly on the spot.

Callum gathers me quickly into his arms. “Oh, Emily baby, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He strokes my hair as I struggle to find the words to reply. I’m desperate to respond to my fiancé because I don’t want him thinking any of this is his fault.

“It’s okay, Cal,” I finally manage to croak. I lift my head and look up at my gorgeous man. “You’re right. You’re one hundred per cent right and I’m a complete idiot.” I didn’t know why my fiancé’s anger had unsettled me so, but I definitely know now. He is right about that blasted book. I should have listened to my doubts about it when I first started reading the damn thing!

“Aw, babe. You really are an idiot, yes.”

“Shut up.” I punch Callum in his stomach playfully. We both laugh, but then he turns serious-faced again.

“Honestly, honey. What on earth convinced you that this eBook has useful advice?”

“It’s not my fault. Well, it is.” I acquiesce. “But the author is a doctor of fitness and she’s quite convincing.”

“A doctor of fitness?” Callum gets a look on his face that defies logic. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of such a thing.” He sits us both onto the bed and I snuggle up against his arm, reading the eBook over his shoulder. “The author of this book is no doctor, Em. It says here she’s a self-proclaimed health mentor. Did you even bother to review the ratings?”

“Of course I did!” Snatching the Kindle away from my fiancé, I flick to the final ePage that links to the online book reviews. “See,” I say, with an I-told-you-so attitude. “The book has four stars.”

“Hmmm.” Callum looks dubious. He kisses me on the cheek, distracting me while he snatches back the eReader.

“Hey!” I complain with false indignity. “Don’t grab, you punk.”

He snorts a laugh and scrolls down the screen. “It looks to me like the reason this book has four stars is because half of them are five stars, while the other half are all one stars.”

“Oh.”

“So you know what that usually means, right my love?”

I have to admit that I do know exactly what my fiancé is talking about. We’ve both found this to be true about certain ratings. When five star reviews seem too good to be true, they probably are. They’re most likely fake reviews written to boost an author’s main rating. These praise-worthy reviews are usually created by friends and family of the author.

“The one star ratings are the real ones.” I answer Callum eventually.

To prove his point he starts reading out one of the five star reviews. “This book was great! It was fantastic! I’ve never read such good a book in such a long long time! I love the author and I want her to write more books on my fat loss right now!”

I cringe inwardly at having to listen to such an obviously butt-kiss like review.

Now Callum reads from a one star review. “Do not waste your money on this book. The author clearly doesn’t know what she’s on about. When is it ever good for any person of any (dress) size to call themselves fat, and call themselves bitches no less?”

“That sounds a bit more honest.” I interject.

Callum nods his head. “That’s because these reviewers are right, it really isn’t a good thing to be yelling at yourself like that in the mirror. Jesus, Em, I didn’t know what was going on when I walked in and—”

“I’m so sorry, honey.” I grab his hand. “I promise I’ll never read any crazy advice books ever again. Come to think of it I might never read another published book ever again. It seems like whenever I do read even novels these days, they’re all total let downs.”

“Maybe you should just stick to reading indie authors from now on.”

I smile at him. “You know what? I think I’ll do just that.”

“Good.” He says flatly before kissing the palm of my hand. “And I’ll hold you to that promise of yours of no crazy diet book reading.”

This is one promise that’s going to be easy to stick with. As far as I’m concerned self-help books are off my reading list unless I know for a fact they’re written by a collaboration of at least ten real doctors.

 

Chapter 16

 

The next day I’ve stuck to my promise to my fiancé. I’m not reading any more self-help diet books. I am, however, going to continue to do the diet and exercise thing my way. I figure this morning is a good a time as any to get started, so I strap on my ankle and wrist weights before walking to the cafe.

I don’t even care that I have to dress a bit like Brenda (i.e. someone who’s always ready to workout at the drop of a hat). I’ve donned my trainers complete with sports socks. They’re not my sports socks. I’d borrowed them from Callum’s sock drawer. I think they might even be his former school PE socks. They are quite long and they stretch all the way up to my knees. Combined with the shorts and t-shirt I’m wearing, I look like an older woman who’s trying to personify her school days youth.

Oh well. I really don’t care what people might think I look like in public. I’m determined to look good on my wedding day, not every day leading up to it.

As I leave our terraced dwelling I’m feeling pumped. I stretch my limbs and take off walking. I’m so cheerful as I pound the pavement, not even the bloke who just drove past yelling out his car window, “nice socks,” can bring me down today.

Yesterday was a disaster. I can fully admit that to myself now. It’s as though this uphill canter I’m doing is clearing my mind. I can actually picture in my head how lame I’d behaved yesterday. I cringe inwardly remembering my determination at following such drivel that was written in that stupid book.

I mean, what kind of person buys into useless crap like that? I feel like such a freak and a big dummy head. Why can’t I just be normal? Everyone else in this town is perfectly normal…

I stop walking, realising that my thoughts of normality have suddenly been obliterated by the sight before me.

There’s an old man at the corner of Graham Road and Church Street. Only he’s not just standing there like any normal person would do. He’s sitting, but not in a normal way either.

Perhaps it is possible that I’m not the only abnormal person in this town.

The old man is sitting high atop a big green metal electricity control box. I’m not normally one to pry, but I just can’t seem to keep myself from being nosy today.

“Excuse me.” Shielding the sun from my eyes with a raised arm in front of my face, I look up and approach the ancient one. He’s got a long white beard and equally as long white hair. I’d say this guy resembles Gandalf from Lord of the Rings, but the only resemblance to that wizardy character stops at his head.

He’s dressed in a brown tweed suit and has on brown shoes. His entire ensemble looks like it’s been in his possession since the 1920s, which it probably has, if I’m judging his age correctly.

“How on earth did you get up there?”

The man removes the smoking pipe from betwixt his lips. Yes, that’s right, I said pipe. He’s actually smoking a pipe as though to complete the cranial look of a wizard. I swear the man’s eyes twinkle at me as he looks down.

“That’s a magical secret, my dear.” He winks and smiles. His voice is as old and craggy as I thought it would be.

I don’t assume he’s being rude by his expectancy that I believe he magically floated up onto his metal box perch. I don’t even care if his answer was a tactic at getting me to bugger off, because I continue with my questioning.

“Okay,” I say, changing tactics. “If you won’t say how you really got up there, then can you tell me why you’re up there?”

And that does it. The guy definitely didn’t want me to bugger off. As it turns out, I get the distinct feeling he was just waiting for me to ask the right question. I discover that he used to be a London traffic cop. These days, well into retirement at the age of seventy, he likes to watch the intersection to make sure everyone drives safely. He tells me his name is Rolland and I introduce myself as Emily. When he drops a bomb of information I’m not even fazed. After all, just because some pipe smoking, wizard looking man sitting atop an electric metal box says he’s got a two year old daughter from his new Thai wife, doesn’t mean I’m inclined to believe him.

Although, judging by Rolland’s eccentric personality, I’d say anything goes with this particular gentleman.

“I’m not hurting anyone sitting up here.”

Oh my. Does he think that’s why I confronted him. “Oh no, you’re fine.” I smile cheerily up at him. “In fact, I’d say you’re doing everyone at these traffic lights a favour by looking out for their safety. You’ve gotten loads of car horn beeps and hand waves just while I’ve been standing here.”

Rolland the 1920s wizard returns a cheery grin. “Actually, my dear, I’m quite sure they’re not beeping their horns at me.” He glances down at my lower legs. “Those are awfully nice socks you’re wearing.”

He winks and I have to laugh. Okay so maybe he’s right. I should have honestly thought twice about walking out in public wearing such ridiculous socks. Oh well, it’s too late to change my apparel now, besides, I’m already near the cafe anyway. I think I can endure a few more beeps of embarrassment as I head up the road.

“Thanks for sharing!” I wave to Rolland the Wiz as I walk away. He sticks his pipe back between his lips and starts puffing. As I trot up the pavement I turn back for one last look at the strange, yet kind man. From this side of his electrical box I can plainly see a small set of concrete steps leading right up to the top of the box he’s sat on.

What a cheeky old man he is telling me he got up there by means of magic.

 

***

“What a convivial woman you are, boss lady.” Anika accosts me with her big words the moment I step through the door of the cafe with a large grin on my face. “Did you’re serpentine journey to work boost your spirits this fine day?”

“Serpentine?”

Anika nods. “Yes, I am thinking you walked to work along winding roads this morning, no?”

“Yes.” I nod too. “I did indeed walk because I need to lose weight for my wedding day.”

“You do not need to be losing weight, boss lady.” My wonderful assistant sets down the tray she’s been holding. “You do not have, how do you say vissza mell?” When she utters her Hungarian words, she pinches her upper back with both hands. “You know?” She adds. “The breasts upon the back.”

BOOK: My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding
9.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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