I really am doing great, aren’t I? I feel like I’ve got endless amounts of energy tonight. Perhaps it’s because I decided to stay on a low carb diet this morning. Or maybe I’m feeling terrific because of this wonderful new sports bra I got at Evans; the plus size clothing shop. It really keeps my knockers in place. I find I’m able to do all the jumping Zumba moves that I usually avoid, due to my breasts normally bouncing right out of my bra.
I’m on a roll. I’m getting so good at this Zumba thing I honestly think I could become a certified instructor.
Bump, grind. Kick, jump. Bounce, turn and twist—
“Yeow!” I scream as my chest explodes with pain. On no! What’s happening? “My heart!” I shout. Sweat pours off my forehead and into my eyes as I lean over and press my hand to my bosom. “Someone help me! I’m having a heart attack! I’m only twenty-six years old, for fuck sake! I don’t want to die!”
***
“My chest, my chest, my chest!” I stare down the doctor. I’ve been brought to hospital but no one is helping me correctly. “I’m having a heart attack! Why haven’t you started open heart surgery on me yet?”
“Please, Miss Gillam.” The female doctor patronises me by speaking so calmly. “You’re not having a heart attack and you certainly don’t need emergency surgery.”
Grinding my teeth together I clutch harder at my squashed cleavage with my hand. I try to lean back onto the raised hospital bed, but that only makes the chest pain worse, so I sit straight up again. “Well what’s happening to me then?” I whisper pathetically.
“Your blood pressure is fine, Emily. A heart attack doesn’t last this long. Now, if you’ll let me check you over I’m sure we’ll find it’s simply trapped wind that’s bothering you a bit.”
Bothering me a bit? I’m about to explode with rage at this exotic, skinny, black-haired beauty of a doctor when Callum comes shuffling hurriedly into the hospital ward.
“Emily!” He exclaims and comes round to the side of my bed. “Are you all right?”
My lips purse. I’m trying not to cry. Finally someone shows me they’re concerned and now I feel like bursting into tears?
Feeling stupid stops the tears from flowing. Now that Callum is here I really do feel like such a pleb. My chest still hurts to the beat of my heart, but why have I been acting like such a drama queen?
“She’s fine, mister…?” The gorgeous, slender doctor woman looks at Callum.
“Callum. I’m Callum,” my equally as gorgeous fiancé (in a masculine way) doesn’t take his eyes off me. “What’s happened to you, Em?”
I look up at him, sheepishly, still clutching my chest. “I thought… I mean.” Pausing, I stiffen as a particularly painful stab wracks my inner bosom.
“Is it your chest?” Callum looks anxious and his words become frantic. “I knew it, Em! You’ve been stressing about the wedding too much. What’s happened?” Finally, he looks at the doctor. “Has she had a heart attack? Does she need open heart surgery? Why isn’t anyone helping my fiancé?”
“Sir, please calm down.”
While I’m glad to see my betrothed is ever so concerned for my well-being, he’s starting to come across just as drama-queen as I was earlier on.
“I’m fine, Callum. Really, it’s just—”
Again my words are cut off by an increased stab of pain in my chest.
“Hang on.” Callum’s concerned eyes are squinty at me. “What are you wearing, Emily?”
“I was at the Zumba Zumba tonight, honey, remember?” Strangely, he doesn’t even crack the smallest of smiles when I try to lighten the tension of the situation by saying Zumba twice. Now I know my fiancé is truly worried for me. He’s also not exactly roaming his eyes over my tight exercise top in a lusty manner, like he normally does when I wear my bosom hugging wrap shirt. “I got this new sports bra and—”
“Oh, Emily!” I’m startled when Callum leans in and shoves his hand up the back of my sweaty top.
“Callum!” I yelp. “What are you doing?” Maybe I was wrong about his roaming eyes. I hardly think