Thoroughly amused, Elliot moved the chair until it was in front of me, and stared at my knickers without blinking.
“Elliot!”
He laughed when I hid them from his view.
“I love how ye say me name like that.”
“I know,” I grumbled. “You’ve told me once or twice. I sound all prim and proper, blah blah blah.”
He winked. “Come on, ye have to get dressed. A doctor or nurse could come in.”
“You locked the door.”
“They can be opened from the outside for a patient’s safety.”
I made him stand in front of me just in case someone came into the room. Elliot made a show of helping me get my knickers over my injured leg. I slapped his hands, making him laugh as he tried to tug them up my other leg like I was a toddler. I grumbled about how hairy my legs were but a glance from Elliot had me clamping my lips together. By the time I got my underwear on, I felt about ninety years old.
“This should be considered exercise,” I said as I reached for my pyjamas. “I’m knackered.”
We got my shorts on, and just as I picked up my top, I caught sight of the tag and nearly died.
“A sixteen.” I blanched as I tugged it on over my head. “Elliot, I’m a size sixteen . . . and it’s a snug fit!”
“I know,” he answered. “I heard your ma tell your da what size pyjamas to get ye yesterday, she made a guess by lookin’ at ye.”
He looked completely unbothered and unaware that I was having an internal crisis.
“Elliot!” I stressed. “I’ve always been a size ten, even an eight in some jeans! A sixteen is plus-size!”
He looked down at my body then back up to my eyes. “It’s not that different – I dunno why it’s considered plus-size. It’s a few extra inches, no big deal.”
“Not that different? No big deal?” I repeated, dumbfounded. “I have love handles and back fat. I’ve never had either of those. My thighs barely touched before and now they practically clap with every step I take.”
Elliot put his hand over his face to cover his smile. I didn’t feel like laughing, I felt like crying.
“I’m fat.”
“You’re chubby.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need you to make me feel better by choosing terms that aren’t as harsh. I need you to understand what I’m saying. Being fat isn’t the issue, it’s the fact that I don’t know this body. Nothing feels familiar, nothing feels like what I’ve always known. I’m not comfortable in this skin. I don’t feel like me at all, Elliot.” I felt his arms wrap around me and I was so relieved that they still fucking fit around me. “I know how it must sound. Like I’m having a meltdown over being fat, but being heavy isn’t the problem, it’s being in a body that I don’t know that’s really hard for me to come to terms with. D’you understand?”
“Yeah, Nono. I know what you mean.”
I pressed my face against his chest. “Elliot, I have a FUPA now.”
“Honey,” he laughed as he hugged me tightly to him. “Ye sound like havin’ a tummy is the saddest thing in the world.”
“It’s not. It’s just a shock to suddenly be in a body that has things I’ve never had before. I wouldn’t expect someone who has a body like yours to understand,” I grumbled as I leaned back and looked at him. “With your eight-pack and your pecs, and those lines on your hips . . . d’you still have those?”
“Ye saw in the bathroom that I do.”
“Did I?” I blinked. “I can’t remember. I have amnesia, you know? Show me.”
With a grin, he lifted up his T-shirt and showed me that he did, in fact, still possess everything I’d just mentioned.
“Cover up.” I gulped. “This is a hospital, my heart rate will go up. That’s not a good thing here.”
He laughed and let his shirt fall back into place, but before I could say another word, he crouched down, placed his hands on my hips and gave me a big kiss on the stomach.
“I like your FUPA,” he said, standing up. “I like your bum, your love handles, your back fat and everything about your beautiful new body. I like it all.”
I turned my head away from him as I smiled, and he snorted and turned me back to face him with a simple touch of his fingertips on my cheek.