My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding

chapter 21



Today is the day.

I sit up in bed. “I’m getting married today!”

My head feels fuzzy with happiness. I grab my compact mirror off the bedside table and peer into it.

Why are my eyes so puffy?

I poke one of my upper lids. My eyes are actually swollen shut.

Oh yeah! I’d spent the entirety of late yesterday crying because my wedding was cancelled.

I flop back onto my pillow, completely despondent.

I think I hear a far off ringing sound, but I’m too depressed to care. Somehow, I think my feet are concerned, because they’ve carried me all the way downstairs without my brain’s conscious awareness.

Ping.

A text message from Georgina reads that she’s re-booked the venue for our wedding today.

Ping.

Another text message from Tina saying she’s on her way to the venue to do my hair and nails.

Ring. Ring.

Checking my voicemail I find a dozen messages. One of them is Paige telling me with flustered words that she will be catering my reception.

Ring. Ring. An incoming call.

I now find myself answering the caller. “Hello?” My far off voice says.

“Oh my god, Em!” It’s Lara. My former best friend. “I’m so sorry! Can you ever forgive me? I’m coming over right now!”

That woman. Her name was Lara. She hung up on me. Just like yesterday. But today? What were her words on the phone just now? I don’t know. All I know is hopelessness.

I still can’t call my fiancé to tell him the bad news about the wedding. I’m numb.

Bang, bang, bang.

There’s quite a noise coming from the front door. I’ve decided to lie down on the sofa for the rest of my life though, so whoever’s out there will just have to go away.

“Em!” Lara’s head peeks in through the open window. “Open the door, Em! I’m so sorry! I’m so so so so so so soooooooorrreeeeee—”

I whip open the front door. I’m wearing my fluffy bathrobe and it flutters in the breeze.

“Oh my god, Em, your eyes!” Lara bursts into tears and throws her arms around my neck. “I’m so sorry,” she keeps saying over and over. “I’ve finished your dress alterations… I promise… I shouldn’t have cancelled on you like that… I’m so sorry…”

“So my dress is ready?”

Lara finally lets me go. “Yes! Em! It’s very ready! Your dress is perfect!”

Something registers in my mind and it’s telling me that my wedding is back on again. Perhaps I should feel something about this, but I just can’t find any emotions within me right now.

“Okay,” I mumble with a very croaky voice. “Let’s go to Mortsbaton Court.”

“Yes. Let’s!” Lara is excitable.

I, however, am numb.

I drag myself upstairs feeling heavy. Funny, I’d have thought crying myself to sleep last night would’ve enabled me to lose weight, what with all the water I’d lost through tear spillage.

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 f*cked 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 f*ck 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 f*ck 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.

“F*cking 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 f*ck-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.

“Are you all right in there?” Lara’s voice seeps through the closed door.

“I’m fine!” I shout, feeling like a true winner. The control pants are on and they fit snugly up to my waist. “I’m putting on the top bit now!”

“Hooray!” Lara yells and I hear her clap her hands a few times. “When you have that on there’s only four more control pieces that I can help you with.”

Did I just hear her correctly? Did she honestly say four other pieces of this dreadful underwear? What could those pieces be? The dress I’m wearing is strapless, surely all these control bits will show and make me look lopsided and squished up.

Whatever. I trust Lara. She knows what’s best. After all, she has been running a bridal shop for years and years. Who am I to question an authority on underwear such as her fine seamstress self?

I do have one question though. Right now I have no idea which way up this control top goes on. It’s a sort of tube top thingy, so I figure I can just shove it over my head and stick my arms through.

That’s exactly what I do and it’s probably exactly why I get stuck. “Oh fiddle sticks.” I mumble and peer at myself in the free standing full-length mirror. These mirrors are everywhere around the bridal suit. The owners know that a bride needs to look at herself wherever she might be on the day of her wedding.

I look like I’ve become half caught in a trap. My lower half is sucked in by the control shorts, but my upper body is a sight to behold. The control top has become stuck just below my armpits like a suffocating rubberband. My arms are slightly forced outwards and my breasts are being squashed down. I look like a wonky seal who’s become trapped in plastic bag cast offs and stranded like a beached whale!

Getting un-stuck from the control top is a nightmare process. Once I figure it out and get the thing on properly I’m so proud of myself I could scream.

I exit the loo not caring at all what Lara thinks of me in this flesh coloured underwear. She helps me into the final control pieces without complaint from me.

Then comes the dress. As I step into it Lara lets Nicola back into the room.

“Oh I love this bit!” My cousin is enthusiastic in her renewed picture taking. “I always cry the most when the dress is first put on at every wedding I do!”

I don’t know why she’s so emotional. I for one am quite grateful for the emotional divide that’s lingering in my heart from yesterday. I can barely breathe wearing control underwear and I’m hoping they don’t spoil the entire wedding ceremony for me.

Lara sashes me up at the back. We’d gone with a proper tie-up corset dress in the end, and Lara did apologise for making me try on all those cheap zip-up gowns.

After she’s finished tying me up so tightly that I almost can’t breathe, I’m allowed to turn and look into the mirror.

Renewed tears spring into my eyes, but they are not tears of joy at seeing myself look so beautiful. They are tears of sadness and contempt at the woman who stares back at me in the reflection.

Who is that girl who’s trying to look thin? Her waist is cinched in so tight that her massive boobs stick out ready to poke out eyes everywhere. Her hips are ridiculously large now that her middle is bound so tightly.

When I walk out the door of the bridal suit I’m choking, but not on my tears, I’m being strangled by my stupid boobs that are shoved up almost into my neck.

“Slow down, Em. You can’t walk down the aisle that fast!” Lara calls out to me. I’m not hearing her though because I’ve picked up my skirts.

I have no intention of walking down any aisle that will lead to the man I love seeing me like this. Instead of heading through the ceremony doors I walk straight out of the wedding venue entirely.

Our wedding has been called off and this time it’s been cancelled by me.