My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding

chapter 4



The next day at the cafe the first thing I do is put the behemoth robot out onto the street. Upon arriving this morning I’d left three more messages for Oliver, plus I already told Callum to find him at CoTechnic and collect the chef bot from mine immediately. If Oliver wants his robot back he can come get it. There’s no way I’m keeping that thing inside my premises after one of the guy’s malfunctioning bots almost killed me last night.

“I am diabolically sorry to hear of your accidents, boss lady.”

Anika’s new word of the day is as diabolical as her refusal to stop referring to me as the Boss Lady.

“Never mind.” As she starts prepping the soup of the day ingredients, I make my way out of the kitchen. “I need to run some errands, but I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Just don’t go near any diabolical swimming pools, boss lady!” Anika shouts to me as I leave.

When I get to my car and open the door I stare forlornly at the wet driver’s seat. I’d placed a towel over it yesterday. I’d also thrown my soaked workout clothes away. They were getting too big, as I’ve lost some weight, and I didn’t want reminding of my near drowning.

Sitting myself down into the sodden car chair, I drive off and head to the Retail Park. I’m going to need some new workout clothes. When I arrive at the clothing store the first thing I notice is that everything’s been swapped around.

Bollocks!

This really does nothing to improve my mood of late. Well, I suppose a cheery attitude wouldn’t be expected of me after nearly dying from drowning.

I stomp around the shop looking for the leisure wear. Actually, I stomp angrily around the store three times, getting more agitated by the minute. But there’s nothing for it. They’ve simply run out of sportswear at this bloody shop!

“Are you all right, love?”

I must be looking quite red in the face with anger because a store attendant has just approached me.

“Where have all your workout clothes gone?” I ask the woman.

“We don’t stock them anymore.” She says with a flick of her bleached blonde hair. “You can check on the store website though, and there are a few leisure items left on sale over there.”

Turning quickly, I stomp over to where the woman indicated. thinking this really takes the piss. Why can’t anything go right for me lately? I’ve got a wedding coming up! I don’t need all this extra crap that keeps happening.

Flicking angrily through the racks of hardly any selection of clothes, I grab a few items I think might fit and make my way stompily as ever into the ladies fitting room. Yanking the curtain shut in front of my changing cubicle, I start trying on leisure wear.

First is a pair of velour jog pants. In my life I’ve always vowed never to wear velvet anything, but needs must as there’s hardly a selection available at this stupid place.

Shoving my legs into the trousers one at a time I pull them up at the waist and it comes to the bottom of my boobs.

This won’t do!

I could scream as I turn and look in the mirror because I must have grabbed an extra long pair of jog pants by mistake. The waist is hiked up much too high, so I shove it down.

“Oh great.” I grit my teeth because now there’s tons of fabric hanging down at the crotch. Also, the legs of the trousers are pooling around my ankles. “Bollocks to this.”

Ripping off the sale items from my personage, I get redressed into my ill-fitting jeans and t-shirt. I walk —no, I stomp— out of the dressing room and out of the entire store. I guess I’m going to have to shop online because I simply can’t find anything that fits. As I plop myself into my damp car I’m at least hopeful that I’ll get my next errand of the day completed successfully. That assumption goes right out the window when I walk into the health food shop.

There’s an Oliver robot here too!

“Seriously?” I bellow. Does everyone in this bloody town now own one of these contraptions.

“Oh hello, Emily. Here for the usual today?”

Heading towards me down one of two aisle in this small shop is Paige. Her husband works at CoTechnic with Callum and we’ve had them round for dinner. Lovely people. It’s only a bit weird how they kind of live off the grid. I don’t know how Paige and her husband Jonty have managed it, but they have land that they’ve built an organic house onto, which they just keep building onto all higildy-pigildy like. I know this because Callum and I have been round to theirs for dinner parties as well and let’s just say I prefer our place that isn’t situated in the deepest darkest recesses of the English midlands.

As Paige nears she pushes a glob of her long, bushy brown hair out of her face. She’s wearing her trademark fleece top, faded jeans and steel-toe lumberjack boots.

She’s a very rustic girl.

Crossing my arms, I start tapping my foot on the floor impatiently. “Are you sure you want to be keeping that thing around here?” Pointing, I indicate the robot to Paige’s right. It’s a triangular thing and its front and back is shaped like a step ladder. There are robot arms extending from it as the bot rearranges stock on the shelves.

“Why ever wouldn’t I?” Paige asks. “This thing has helped out loads around here.”

Running a hand through my long blonde hair, I squint menacingly at the robot. “One of those things malfunctioned last night and almost killed me!”

“Did it?” Paige looks astonished. I proceed to tell her that it did indeed, at the spa. “Well.” She adds, “I suppose it’s a good thing there’s no pool in here then!” She barks a laugh and turns on her heel.

While she’s gone I fill my arms with a few new items from the shelves. When Paige returns to the shop floor with my reserved items, I meet her at the till and pay for my regularly scheduled order of supplies. Ever since the wedding plans began I’ve been trying to incorporate healthier foods onto the cafe menu.

So far, it hasn’t been working to due lack of flavour, but that’s something I’m determined to change with every new recipe I try out.

“I still think you should be very careful around that thing, Paige.” This time when I look at her I swear I see a shadow of doubt play across her features. But then when her ladder shaped robot comes floating towards us her demeanour softens.

“The little bot isn’t really bad company, Emily,” she states simply.

Shrugging my shoulders I take my bags of health food items off of the checkout countertop. “Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As I leave I’m completely put off by the fact that her ladder robot follows me all the way to the door.

***



When I get back to the cafe I notice my behemoth oven robot is finally gone. “I see Oliver collected his stupid robot!” I shout to Anika as I make my way into the kitchen, laden with carrier bags. “Although he wasn’t even decent enough to apologise for the bot who nearly killed me last night.”

Anika shakes her head. She looks perturbed. “I did not know the Oliver man took his diabolical robot, he is a cad for leaving no apology message!”

A cad. Yeah, well, I suppose a trashy romance novel term for the guy isn’t far off the mark. I smile at Anika. I don’t know what I’d do without her and her amazing use of the English language. I’d know a lot less new words, that’s for sure.

After serving breakfast we close the cafe for a couple of hours to get the lunch menu started. I’m excited to get started on a new low calorie cake recipe I found online, so I get right too it after unpacking the health food store groceries.

Carefully, I follow the cake instructions. “The buns in the oven!” I exclaim to Anika a half hour later. Well, it’s not baps I’m baking, but a healthy carrot cake that should turn out tasting quite nice.

Lunch time at the cafe gets quite busy. It’s only when Lara comes in that I remember the cake. “Why didn’t I hear the alarm?” I exclaim and run into the kitchen. “Oh good.” Sighing with relief I notice the cake is sitting on the counter top. Anika must have taken it out of the oven.

“Surprise!” Lara comes bursting into the kitchen behind me. “Happy hen do, Em!”

I turn and she throws something to me. Catching the pink t-shirt I look at what’s printed on the front. “In the morning this girl won’t be single so buy her a drink now.” I read aloud. There’s an exclamation mark at the end of the sentence on the shirt, but I’m not feeling overly excited enough to shout out about it. Flipping the pink t-shirt over I discover the back reads BRIDE in big capital letters.

“We’re going on your surprise hen do tonight!” Lara exclaims like the exclamation mark I left out of my t-shirt reading.

I throw the t-shirt back to her. “You know I said I didn’t want a hen do, Lolz. Besides, I’m not getting married tomorrow like that shirt says, our wedding is weeks away.”

She tosses the pink T right back to me. “You’re going to have a hen do if I have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

“Oh that’s kind!” Scraping the t-shirt off my face unmuffles the sound of my voice. “I told you I don’t want to ruin my pre-wedding diet.”

Lara stares at me unkindly. “I’ll buy you a Bud Light,” she says, then storms out of the kitchen. “You can drink diet beer all night, Em! It will be fine!”

Shaking my head incredulously I look down at the t-shirt in my hands. I can see the white label on the inside neckline. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble aloud. “Size small?”

Lara has done this on purpose. She totally wants me to wear a t-shirt that’s going to make my boobs stick out like rockets.

***

“I look ridiculous,” I tell Callum while standing in front of our body length bedroom mirror.

“You look amazing.” He pretends to drool out the side of his mouth while I stare at his reflection. Suddenly, he grabs my boobs. “This shirt is incredible. Give Lara my thanks.”

I snort a reply. “It’s too tight!”

“Just the way I like it.” Callum continues to leer at me and soon enough he starts squeezing my breasts. “Although, I think you’re right. This t-shirt is much too tight for public wear. Only I’m allowed to stare at your tits.”

“You’re so romantic.” Pulling away from his rubbing grasp I take a short sleeve pink cardigan out of the closet. It’s just a thin number that goes well with my dark jeans, so I won’t get too warm wherever it is I’m going tonight. Apparently the location of my hesitant hen do is yet another surprise organised and kept tight-lipped by Lara.

When I look in the mirror again I notice the cardigan doesn’t cover my rocket boobs at all. See, the thing is, I’ve been losing weight, but for some weird reason my bra size has increased. I figure the reason for this might be that now my stomach has shrunk, my breasts have room to grow. This is something I’m not at all best pleased about.

“I really need to book another bra fitting at M&S soon.” I scowl into the mirror and Callum grabs me again.

Nuzzling my neck, he mumbles to me between kisses. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we both go into an Ann Summers dressing room and I’ll get you properly fitted.”

“Oh you silly man!” Swatting him away playfully, I duck into the bathroom. “That’s a sex toy shop. The only bras I’ll get in there are pushups!”

“Exactly my point!” Callum shouts as I shut the door in his face with a laugh. Little does he know that I’m fully expecting plenty of Ann Summers gifts tonight from my hen do partner in crime.

If there’s anyone who knows a thing or two about bachelorette parties, it’s Lara. After all, she is a bridal gown seamstress.

***

“This taxi journey seems rather long, Lolz.” We are both sat in a black cab and by the looks of things out the window, I’d say we’re not off to the nearby Whetherspoons pub. “I thought you meant we were just going to Spoons tonight.”

“You thought wrong, my dear.” There’s a naughty twinkle in Lara’s eye.

When the taxi pulls up to the curb outside Bushwackers night club in Worcester, I shake my head in consternation. “I didn’t even want a hen do and now you’ve gone all out on a night club evening?”

“Just you wait and see, girlfriend!” Lara snaps her fingers and arcs her arm through the air like that flamboyant gay guy off the eighties film Mannequin. A movie her and I have watched many a time after particularly painful breakups and such.

She pays the driver and together we hop out of the cab. Arm in arm we make our way towards the night club entrance. Just as I’m about to pass the big bald burly bouncer, who’s wearing an ill-fitting tight black suit, Lara steers me to the left. The bouncer with the shaved head winks at her and she responds with a massive eyelid squashing of her own, complete with an open mouthed grin.

“What’s going on?” As we clickity clack our way across the outside courtyard cobblestones, I’m bursting with curiosity.

Lara sighs loudly. “I should have blind folded you and gagged you like a proper hen do kidnapping.”

“Um… I beg your pardon? Since when is gagging part of the bachelorette process?”

Lara bursts out laughing and frankly so do I. We both know full well that gagging of any kind is for a different sort of hen do party!

“Let’s get this party started, shall we?” I’m shepherded down a winding stone staircase.

“But the main dance floor is—”

“Surprise!” My question is cut short by mega screaming as soon as we enter the basement party lounge. I am indeed surprised. Lara has invited all of our friends! Not only that, but Anika and Paige are here too.

“I hope you are having a diabolical hen do, boss lady!” Anika shouts over the loud music. I’m sure she doesn’t mean she hopes I have a terrible bachelorette party, I’ll just remind her to look up the definition to the word diabolical again tomorrow.

I air kiss-kiss all my lady friends near their cheeks as we’re all settled at a long table that’s been set up down the length of the room. “Did you book this entire room?” I ask Lara who’s seated to my right as I’m at the head of the table.

“Of course I did! Waiter!” She snaps her fingers again and I become instantly out of my mind with shock.

To the right, along the wall is the red lit neon bar, and just beyond that is a door way through which three shirtless waiters now walk.

“Wooooooo!” Every woman at the table starts screeching in pleasure.

“Oh my…!” Words cannot escape my lips. Probably because I’m covering them with a surprised hand.

The waiters, whose trays are laden with cocktails, gracefully attend to us. The shiny black trousers they’re wearing are tight and the only other things on their muscly torsos are black bow ties around their necks.

The most tanned waiter of them all bends close to me as he places a salt-rimmed margarita onto the table in front of me. “Enjoy.” He whispers in my ear and I feel my face flush with blood of embarrassment.

“Ha!” Lara bellows and chinks her glass with mine. “Cheers to that and a whole lot more, babe!” She winks at me, then whacks the topless waiter on his arse as he departs.

Exclamations of, “woooo hooooo yeah!” erupt around the table for the rest of the evening. I’m given cocktail after cocktail and eventually I stop thinking about ruining my diet all together. I was right when I thought I’d be getting a gift of lingerie from Lara. Not only that, I’ve been laden with gifts all throughout the evening. I never knew how many different sizes and shapes of dildo were invented until now!

When I’m feeling beyond tipsy I finally tell Lara it’s time to wrap things up. Half the girls have wandered onto the dance floor, while some are sitting on waiters laps at the table.

“We’re not done just yet.” Lara grabs my hand and pulls me up out of my seat, only to direct me to a chair that’s been placed in the centre of the dance floor.

Oh no. Oh please no. “No way am I sitting here,” I say, hopping to my feet. Suddenly, the room darkens further and the music changes tempo to a chick-a-bow-wow beat, complete with sexy eighties saxophone.

More lady-screaming erupts all around.

Flash!

A spotlight, from I don’t know where, centres on the archway next to the bar. Out of which strides a completely clothed gentleman wearing a tuxedo and bowler hat.

“Oohhhh shit.” He’s a stripper. “How could you do this to me, Lolz?” I whimper and sit into the chair. I’m determined to cower here like a good girl, but I have a feeling this is going to be the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.

Sure enough, the man gyrates his way onto the dance floor. When he gets close enough to me the first thing he does is to swirl his groin directly at my face.

I shut my eyes, then peek them back open when nothing else happens for a few seconds.

Riiiiiiiip.

The stripper peels his dinner jacket, shirt and tie off in one go. If I thought the lady-howling from before was loud, it’s nothing compared to the screaming of lust that’s now echoing throughout the party chamber.

I feel like I’m in that film Magic Mike. Except, unlike the women in that movie, I’m definitely not enjoying myself!

The stripper keeps his bowler hat low, so I can’t see his face under all this darkened shadow. This is a good thing, I don’t want to accidentally make eye contact with a man who is once again gyrating his crotch at my face.

There’s another tearing sound and suddenly the stripper guy isn’t wearing trousers any longer. There’s nothing but a thong between my face and his bulging bits as he straddles the chair I’m sitting on.

Lower he grinds towards me. His package bumps down past my sticky-outy boobs. I’m wincing and shoving my head back at the neck. I’ve got my head turned to the side and I’m concentrating on the looks on my friends faces as they hoot and slobber at the sidelines of the dance floor.

When pump-and-grind boy finally sits onto my lap, I’ve had enough. I’m feeling guilty enough about Callum finding out about this fiasco as it is! There’s no way I’m going to let a complete stranger continue to dry hump me in front of everyone I know! Even despite how ripped his abs might be.

Placing my hands onto the strippers shoulders, I’m briefly distracted by the corded muscle.

Stop it, Emily! Concentrate.

And I do. I snap back into the reality of the awkward situation. “I’m sorry!” I shout into his ear over the beat of the cheesy music. For a moment I’m wondering which seventies porn movie they snatched this tune from, but that’s not really my main concern at the moment. “I’m going to have to ask you to please get off of me!”

When I shout this to the oiled up man on my lap, I use one of my hands to tip up his hat.

“Oh for f*ck sake! Ben?”

And that’s all it takes. In a flash of recognition the strippers hat flies off his head as he pushes himself directly off my lap.

The music stops abruptly and there’s dead silence all around. Murmurs pour through the crowd of ladies who are wondering what’s going on.

“Oh shit.” My former stripper man mumbles and covers his face with one hand, while covering his lower bulge with the other. “What the hell are you doing here, Emily?”

I for one am not wondering at all what’s going on, because the mostly naked man standing before me is none other than my cousin Nicola’s paramedic, ambulance driving, boyfriend Ben.

***



Ben had run “off stage” without finishing his strip tease routine. Lara and I are once again sat in a taxi. “I am so incredibly sorry, Em.” She mumbles drunkenly.

“It’s okay, you couldn’t have known my cousin Nicola’s boyfriend was a stripper.” Finding this information out the way I had, moments ago at the night club, sure has sobered me up quite a bit.

“No! I definitely didn’t think you’d know the guy!”

I’m not accusing Lara of anything and the rest of the journey home is carried out in silence. When we arrive back at my terraced home Lara helps me carry all my newly acquired sex gear inside.

“I really did have a lovely time, Lolz.” I reassure her as she’s about to leave.

“You were right though,” she looks drunkenly at me. “I shouldn’t have thrown you a hen do at all.”

“Don’t be silly.” We air kiss each other goodnight and she leaves through the door. “Although!” I shout to her. “Maybe your next friend who gets engaged should only have a bridal shower!”

Lara laughs, wobbles tipsily to the awaiting taxi and hops inside. As the cab pulls away from the curb I shut the door and walk past all the gifts I’ve left in the entrance hall. Making my way upstairs I start to pull off my too tight hen do t-shirt. It takes me ages and I get a cramp under my shoulder, but eventually I manage to get the thing off without having to cut it in half with scissors.

When I’m completely naked and my exposed skin hangs as relaxed as it naturally should do, I hop into bed next to my already sleeping fiancé. I spoon his body from behind and my hand comes into contact with his taught abs. I smile to myself, knowing he’s slightly awake as he always tenses his tummy muscles when I start-a-groping.

Come to think of it, this is the exact reason I didn’t need or want a hen do in the first place. I’ve got my perfectly fit man right here, complete with rippling abs muscles like the waiters at the night club.

And also like the abs of my cousin’s boyfriend.

As I drift off to sleep I’m hoping I dream about the right muscular structures tonight. The corded muscles that belong to my betrothed and not those of Ben’s.