My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding (33 page)

Alas, it must be my lot in life to remain a huge heffer.

“Here! Put this on.” Lara is throwing bits of clothing at me now. She’s standing in front of my wardrobe muttering and apologizing non-stop. I don’t really care though. She can apologise all she wants, I don’t think my puffy eyes are capable of seeing her as a friend ever again.

I don’t know though. I’m not even sure I know who this woman is. It’s so strange being devoid of feelings.

“Oh my god.”

Lara says something that isn’t the word ‘sorry’, which surprises me enough to pay attention. She’s holding onto a dress she’s just pulled from my wardrobe.

“I told you to wear this to your wedding on the phone yesterday, didn’t I?” Lara swallows, hard. Her eyes fill with tears as she looks up at me.

“Yeah, you did suggest that.” I answer her solemnly.

She walks over to me. “You’re never going to forgive me, are you?” Her voice cracks and tears stream down her cheeks. She sits on the bed, stroking the fabric of the dress I wore to the CoTechnic picnic. “I wouldn’t forgive me if I were you, Em. I’m so sorry though. Honestly I am—”

I sit down next to her and hug her close. “Of course I forgive you, stupid. You’re my best friend forever, dummy.”

It’s true. I do forgive her with all my heart. How can I not? Lara knows that I know she’s fucked up badly enough for me to reserve the right to call her a stupid dummy to her face, and not get punched in the gut for it.

The real question is; why did she fuck up so royally and cancel on me in the first place?

I ask her as much.

“I’d rather not say.”

Why am I not surprised that I won’t be getting an answer from her? I don’t suppose I’ll get answers from everyone else either, because I had received messages today, hadn’t I? They did all say that they were un-cancelling. As far as today is concerned, it really is my wedding day once again. If it weren’t for the fact that glancing in the mirror makes me have a stroke at the sight of my puffy eyes and red face, I’d say this day was shaping up to be a pleasant one.

“That’s my fault, isn’t it?” Lara looks at me in the mirror’s reflection. She draws circles in the air in front of her eyes with her finger to indicate my own swollen eyelids.

“Yeah, this…” I too pause and indicate my whole face by way of swirling full hand motion. “This is your fault.” Well, it’s partially her fault, and everyone else’s fault who’d cancelled on me yesterday.

I’m not quite sure my thinking is back to normal yet. I still can’t wrap my head round the fact that everyone did indeed cancel on me. And what about my parents and their cancelled flight?

“Oh no!” I gasp, finally feeling something other than a blasé sort of fog filling my mind.

“What’s the matter, hun?” Lara holds my elbow as though she thinks I’m going to fall over.

“My parent’s flight from Spain was cancelled. My dad isn’t going to be here to walk me down the aisle!”

Oh no. No, no, no. I’m not doing this. I’m not going to start crying again. I’ve spent all my tears. I won’t survive if my eyes start leaking again. Suck it up, girl!

“Don’t panic, babe!” Lara yells in my face. “I’ll walk you down that damn aisle if I have to!”

And that’s it. I lose it completely.

I burst into peals of laughter and tears of hysteria slide down my face. “In that case we should definitely invite Veronica and Craig to our lesbian wedding!”

***

Lara calms my maniacal laughter by reminding me that the two of us aren’t actually getting married to each other.

“Oh yeah, I’m marrying a bloke, aren’t I?” I hum lightly to myself as Lara drives us to the wedding venue. On the way I manage to have a long phone conversation with my ever apologetic parents in Spain. I assure them that I don’t blame them at all for their flight being cancelled, and I do so by pointing out just that fact. I mean, it’s not like my parents have control over stupid airlines and their major fuck ups, now is it?

I leave out the saying of F word bit while reassuring my parents though.

When we arrive at Mortsbaton Court I’m ushered into the bridal suite amidst many apologies from the hostess. There are a dozen huge arrangements of flowers scattered around the room.

“To say we’re incredibly sorry, Miss Gillam.”

“All these flowers are for me?”

Georgina nods her head and leaves just as Tina and Stacy enter the room. They both seem to be incredibly weighed down by the large plastic boxes they’re holding. When Tina sets the boxes down on the bed and gets a good look at my face, she practically screams in horror.

“Oh dear god this is all my fault!”

It’s not entirely her fault. Just like it wasn’t entirely Lara’s fault. They were both at fault for cancelling so I’m not exactly going to give either of them any leeway in the matter. In other words, they can stew in their guilt for just a bit longer.

To make matters worse, I stick out my hands.

Tina nearly faints when she witnesses the filed, chewed mess that was my fingernails.

“Fucking hell, what did you do?” Stacy grabs Tina and steadies the woman on her feet.

“We’d better get started.” Tina fans herself dramatically before heading out the door. When she returns she unfolds the portable beauty chair she’s brought inside. I’m told to get into the luxuriously soft complimentary dressing gown and slippers that have been provided by the venue. Tina helps me onto the beauty chair and I lay back and relax.

“Hello cousin!”

Nicola has arrived.

She glides her skinny brown haired self into the room already snapping. Snapping shots off on her digital camera, of course.

Bloody hell. I’d forgotten about my cousin doing the wedding photography. It’s no surprise I hadn’t remembered really. During the kerfuffle of last night’s disastrous cancellation calls, I never realised that Nicola was the only one who hadn’t phoned me.

I should do right by her. She’s the only person in this room who didn’t fail me yesterday. I should tell her about her paramedic boyfriend’s other job as a stripper.

Sighing, I lay my head back down onto the beauty chair headrest.

I’m simply in no mood for relationship altering revelations right now. It’s not my place to go blabbing anyway. If Ben hasn’t said anything to Nicola yet, that’s his problem. Although, if he hasn’t told my cousin by the time I’m back from honeymoon then that clothes flinging man and I will definitely be having words.

Nicola tells me she wants to get some candid behind-the-scenes shots before the actual wedding ceremony. When she says it like that I’m reminded of the fact that it’s actually going to be happening soon. I’m going to walk down that aisle on the arm of my best friend and I’m going to be delivered into the arms of the man who will be my husband.

I’m so bloody excited to see Callum in his wedding suit now I might actually wee myself.

“Now just relax, this will ease the swelling.” Tina’s voice soothes me and I feel her place cold, wet pads over my poor swollen eyes. She starts to do a facial while Stacy works on repairing the mess that used to be my fingernails.

“You’ll never guess who got a boob job on the NHS last week.” Stacy and Tina start up with the usual salon gossip. Even though we’re not actually in the salon, I know I just heard Nicola stop taking pictures and Lara has ceased messing with my wedding dress. They totally want to overhear this bit of goss.

“Never!”

“Mm-hmm.” Stacy confirms Tina’s disgust. “Pig-face got her new boobs paid for on the NHS because she said she was bonkers, innit?”

“Don’t tell me.” I hear Tina feign disinterest. “I don’t want to know.”

There’s a lengthy pause before Tina speaks again. “It was Clare, wasn’t it?”

“Well, yeah.” Stacy says. “I told you it was pig-face herself what did it. You know how her nose sticks up like a pig’s snout and all.”

“You mean she told her doctors she was bipolar, or some such?”

“Nah! She just said she was depressed and she’d off herself if she couldn’t get implants.”

Some people! I’m disgusted just hearing about this Clare woman. Not that I should probably be believing salon gossip, but if it’s true that’s a despicable thing for a person to do. Imagine that. Faking depression just to get a boob job. Not even I would pretend to be depressed about my huge bosoms just to get a breast-reduction paid for by the NHS.

When I next wake up I can’t believe I actually fell asleep in the first place. Peeking open my eyes I find they don’t feel chubby and pressurised.

“My eyes!” I exclaim as I glance into a hand mirror. My lids are no longer swollen. “My nails!” I shout again after seeing my new acrylics. Stacy may be horrible at doing wedding hair, but she’s a wizard when it comes to nail repair.

“Just wait until we get you into this dress and finish off your look.” Lara holds up my gown and I smile. It’s such pretty flowing fabric. Yards and yards of fabric actually. I can’t fail to look good in it. I’m sure Callum will be pleased.

So why can’t I work up proper excitement about the dress?

I don’t know. Maybe I’m still feeling emotionally sore after yesterday’s wedding cancellations followed by today’s re-scheduling of everything. Perhaps my brain hasn’t yet fully processed the idiotic ups and downs that have been thrown at it mentally.

Whatever the case, the fact of the matter is my wedding is definitely on and I’m going to have to get ready for it sooner or later.

***

Tina, Stacy and Nicola have left the bridal suit. Now it’s just me, Lara and the Undesirables; the dreaded control underwear that I have to stuff my body into if I’m ever going to fit into my perfectly altered bridal gown.

“Don’t make me do this please, Lara. I’m begging you.”

Normally I’d expect a full on sarcastic response from my plucky best friend. After her major fuck-up of cancelling on me though, I don’t think Lara is feeling anything other than perpetually apologetic.

“Don’t worry, hun. You only have to wear them for an hour or so.”

That isn’t the response I wanted to hear. I’d expected Lara to quip wicked in retort. Also, I really don’t think I’ll actually be able to survive for an entire hour being squashed up inside all that tight fabric.

“Let’s get this over with then.” Taking the main pieces of control underwear with me into the bathroom, I close the door behind me.

Starting with the slimming shorts, I put my big toe into the small opening and pull. The fabric stretches a bit, but my leg fails to punch through. I remove the material and start again.

This time bunch up the leg of the shorts like I’m about to put on a pair of tights. I stretch the leg wide open and stick my entire foot through successfully. Once I’m two feet in I have to start pulling in an upwards motion. I’m wrenching and stretching the fabric so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t rip to shreds.

“Are you sure these are my size, Lolz?” I bellow at Lara through the bathroom door. “It’s just… they’re a bit tight.”

“They’re supposed to be tight! Come on, Em! You can do this!”

Well that’s a bit better. At least she’s showing signs of getting back to the plucky spirit of the girl I used to know.

“Would you like me to come in and help?”

Oh no. Oh god no. No one on this planet shall ever witness the atrocity of curvy girl squishing herself into ill-fitting control underwear, and that’s a fact.

Sighing with exasperation I’m aware that at this point I might not make it to my own wedding even fashionably late. Unless of course fashionably late now runs in the region of an hour behind schedule, which it definitely doesn’t. Besides, I’m anxious to see my fiancé and I’d never keep such a nice guy waiting!

Tugging with all my might brings the control pants up to my thighs.

Ah yes. My hips. We now have to struggle past these buggers.

Okay fists, this is going to be rough but you can do it. Get furious!

Squeezing my fists as tightly around the fabric as I can —without digging out my palms with my new acrylic nails— I grip the pants and pull.

“Nnnuuuhhhgggh!” A wretched sound escapes my lips.