My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding (9 page)

Callum stands up and fishes through the pocket of his trousers. His hand comes away with a phone in it and he starts dialling. After a heated conversation with the medical receptionist, all of her words of which I can hear, Callum finally explodes. “Look.” He grumbles down the phone line. “My fiancé can barely move and I demand a doctor visits her here immediately!”

“If you’re sure she can’t make it into the surgery.” I hear the receptionist’s whiney voice.

“Of course I’m sure!” Callum shouts. “I’ve been sure throughout this entirely useless conversation!”

I’d tell him to calm down, but I’m quite enjoying his chivalry.

Eventually, a doctor does come out to see me, but it’s at the end of a very painful day. He confirms that I’ve torn a muscle near my hamstring in my right leg and that I’ll need bed rest to heal.

Well, I could have guessed that. It’s not like I’m in any hurry to jump out of bed anyway.

The doctor leaves me with some faster acting painkillers that I’m grateful for.

“You heard the man, Em.” Callum sits beside me on the bed. “You get some rest, my love.”

The only words I can reply are mumbled sounds. “Mmmmm hmmmm.” My eyelids flutter closed. The doc did say the medicine I took could make me drowsy. I’m feeling so drowsy in fact that I barely notice when Callum slips out of bed.

Finally, I drift off into dreamland without an ounce of pain.

***

Days fly by. I think. I don’t know because I’m depressed. I think my legs are gradually on the mend, each time I wake, but I am one with pain now, so I prefer to dwell in my misery.

The nights all blend together as I sleep and wake. I’m pretty sure Callum helps me to the bathroom time after time. He also gets me to eat a bit when I can stomach the thought of food. I’m just so angry at my legs for failing me so catastrophically. I dread to think how much weight I’ll put on from having to lie around in bed!

I think a few days go by and I wake feeling okay in the legs. “Did I recently take some painkillers?” I mumble to Callum. It’s a bright Monday morning and he’s doing up his tie before heading to work.

“You ran out of pain medication days ago, honey.” He says. “Why, are your legs feeling better?”

What do I say to that? If Callum is being serious then it means my legs are indeed feeling a lot better. There’s barely a dull ache near my hamstring.

“You’ve been in bed for a week. I should think that’s enough time to heal.”

Now what did he just say? “I beg your pardon?”

Callum sniffs the air. “It’s okay love, I can’t smell your fart.”

“Oh you!” Sitting up all on my own I throw a pillow at him. “I didn’t ask for your pardon because I farted… which I didn’t! I asked you how long I’ve been in bed for.”

“A week!” Callum smiles, drops his tie and comes towards me. “And I’d say it was all the time you needed to mend your sexy legs.”

A week. I’ve been bed ridden for an entire week. “But I thought I’d just slept through the weekend.”

Callum sits next to me and wraps his arms around me. “You may not have farted just now, but you’ve definitely not had a bath in at least a week, love.”

I’m tempted to positively smother my fiancé with the last remaining pillow on the bed.

Unfortunately, he’s right. I reek.

Callum leaves for work and I phone Anika at the cafe. After she’s finished using big words from the English dictionary, she finally relents and decides to let me come back to work at my own cafe. Not before I’ve reassured her that my legs are much better though. Callum must have really expressed the pain I was in when he’d spoken to Anika during my bed ridden week.

I get the same idea when I look at all the text messages on my phone. Scrolling back in time I find the original text my darling fiancé sent to all my friends and family…

THIS IS CALLUM TEXTING FROM EMILY’S PHONE IN REQUEST THAT SHE NOT BE DISTURBED DURING HER ROAD TO RECOVERY, UPON PAIN OF DEATH.

Oh that’s just terrific. Apparently my betrothed had threatened to kill anyone who decided to bother me during my epic leg hurt week. That didn’t stop the text messages from rolling in though. There are about a million and one texts from Lara telling me I have to come back in for a dress fitting immediately!

That was a message from two days ago. They get more shouty in text the more recently I scroll up the timeline until Lara’s words screech at me in capital letters, just like Callum’s original threatening outgoing message.

I suppose Lara’s right. I do have an impending wedding to attend in just a matter of weeks. Why, I’m getting married to the most wonderfully caring man anyone could ever hope to be engaged to. I’m getting married. I’m having a wedding. I’ve been laid up for an entire week and I’m going to a bride soon.

So much time has wasted away so that my legs could heal!

Well, that’s all about to change. I’m determined to make up for lost time now. I’ve got so much to do. I’m getting married!

Whisking the duvet off my legs I’m stunned at the sight of them. My pins look amazing! So the trick to losing excess weight involves hard core exercise and then a week long sabbatical from life in bed. Somehow, I don’t think even seeing my legs looking slimmer is enough to convince me to ever again take a shred class.

Hopping out of bed isn’t perfect. I do wobble a bit, but at least there’s no pain involved on my walk to the bathroom.

Two hours later I’m out of the house and walking down the road. It took me quite some time to get myself and my bedroom tidied up after spending a solid week in its confines.

I’m refreshed and ready to go now though! Nothing’s going to stop me prepping everything that needs doing before my wedding day arrives.

***

Nothing will stop me walking down the aisle either. Not even the fact that I can’t seem to find a suitable dress at Lara’s bridal shop. I’ve been here for two hours already and I’ve probably tried on every dress in the store. I just can’t seem to find one that I like. All of the dresses are smooth and lovely, and I’m wearing some less uncomfortable control underwear, yet I still think I look odd when I stare at myself in the mirror.

“Now this has to be the one for you.” Lara gushes at me like a good dress sales lady. She’s been saying the same thing about every gown I’ve tried on though. I think she’s getting as fed up as I am.

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Oh for god’s sake, Em!”

Yep. She’s definitely fed up. “What’s the problem this time?”

Frowning, I tilt my chin down. “I’m practically choking on my cleavage and this dress makes my hips look huge.” I don’t like the way I’m overly cinched in at the waist, it exacerbates my hourglass figure, and not in a good way.

“Right, that’s it then.” Lara heads out of the fitting area. “You stay right there and we’ll sort out a dress for you once and for all.”

When she returns her wedding bell shaped robot is floating behind her. “Keep that thing away from me.”

“Oh relax.” Lara presses the face of her phone and I presume she’s giving her robot some app instructions. “We’re not near any great bodies of water.”

She’s right. I don’t think there’s any chance of accidental electrocution. I’m still cautious though when Lara guides the robot towards me. “I’m just going to do some alterations.”

“With me in the dress?”

Lara nods and a funny looking sewing machine pops out of the bridal robot. It angles it’s dangerous looking device towards me and starts sewing and snipping away.

“Isn’t this great?” Lara seems excited. I, however, am not. I don’t see why she can’t wait until I’ve taken this bloody dress off to do the stitching bits on it.

The front door bell tinkles. “I’ll be right back.” Lara heads out of the room.

“You can’t just leave me alone with this machine, Lolz!”

“You’ll be fine,” she replies with a wave of her hand upon leaving.

Fantastic. Now I’m left with one of these horrible robots as it zips and whirrs all around the dress I’m wearing. I feel tugging around the skirt area and when the robot’s sewing mechanism rises up onto the bodice of my gown, I start to quiver with fear. Lifting my arms I watch in the mirror as the lace covered bot sews in stitches on the upper corset part of my dress. I’m holding as still as I can. The robot’s sewing device contains sharp needles and small blades for cutting away string and fabric.

Why oh why did I agree to let this thing near me? Any minute now it’s probably going to malfunction and stab me to death! I’m going to die by accidental slicing this time and I think I’d much prefer gentle electrocution by drowning!

“There we go, all done.”

Lara has returned and the robot is gently hovering by her side. All signs of torture device looking sewing apparatus have disappeared back into its bell surface.

“It’s finished?”

“It certainly is. What do you think, Em?”

Looking up, I glance into the mirrors that line the walls of the fitting room. “It’s a bit better…”

I’m about to say more when Lara practically rages at me. “Fine, you don’t like it.” She stomps toward me. “Just take it off and I’ll order in a new batch of dresses for you to try on.”

“But, Lolz—”

“No.” She cuts me off. “Just turn around so I can untie the sash… oh my god.”

“Oh my god what?” When there’s no response from my best friend, I try to see where she’s looking.

“That damn robot.” Lara turns and I glance her way. “Where has it gone?”

She’s right. Where has the bridal bot gone? And why is its presence so important?

Just then, my phone rings. I take it out from between my boobs where I’d stuffed it before trying on dresses. “Hello, Anika?” I say, as soon as I pick up the call. “Is everything all right?”

“Boss lady!” Anika’s voice blares into my ear. “Your robot! It is destroying the cafe!”

My robot? My eyes glaze over as sounds of catastrophe blast out from the phone. “Get yourself and Fiona out of there right now, Anika!” I screech. “I’ll be there in two seconds. Lara, get me out of this dress!”

“I can’t.”

She what? “Anika,” I shout into the phone again. “Are you and Fiona safely out of the cafe now?”

“Yes boss lady! And the robot is gone!”

I can’t believe this is happening, and why isn’t Lara untying my sash? “I’m phoning the police now and I’ll be there shortly, like I said.” I ring off and shove the phone into my boobs again. “Lara? Did you hear that? I’ve got to go! Help me out of this dress right now!”

“I can’t.”

Glancing at her reflection in the mirror first, I whirl around. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

Lara has placed her hands over her mouth and her eyes look worried. “Oh, Emily I’m so sorry but that fucking robot has sewn you into that dress!” She wails. “It’s going to take me hours to cut you out!”

Oh. My. Fucking. Fuck. “Tell me you’re joking, Lolz.” I try shifting and pulling the corset top, but that only hurts my ribs so I stop squirming immediately.

All Lara does is shake her head, once again plastering her fingers worriedly over her mouth.

“Argh!” I rage. “This can’t be happening!” Jumping down off the low pedestal, I stuff my feet into my trainers and run out of the fitting room. Lara bustles by my side, apologising like a crazy lady.

“It’s fine, Lolz,” I tell her as I approach the front door of the shop. “You can cut me out of this dress when I get back.”

“I’m coming with you!”

Lara locks up her shop and helps me bundle the skirts of my dress into my arms. Together, we run along the road and up the street towards my cafe. I get a few strange looks from passers-by who are probably wondering why there’s a bridal gown wearing woman dashing along the street in her trainers. As soon as we get near my cafe though, all eyes are focused on the scene unfolding before us.

Police cars have driven in from everywhere. Some are parked up on the curb as a fire truck engine tries to make its way down the narrow street. “Anika!” I wave to my colleague and drop half my bridal skirts. After picking up armfuls of tulle once again, I head to the front entrance of my cafe.