My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding - By Katya Starkey Page 0,40

prepping island space is surrounded by four walls that contain refrigerators, drawers, ovens and stovetops.

For today’s lesson there are six attendees who are already here.

“Welcome everyone!” I’m quite excited about teaching today’s class because it will give me a chance to spread the word about some new low carb dishes I’ve designed.

Although, I’m not going to tell the class members that it’s basically a diet dish. I’ll wait until after the lesson is finished and then I’ll surprise them by revealing the results of my great tasting recipe!

“Now don’t add too much olive oil.” The class is in full swing fifteen minutes later and there are lovely aromas wafting through the air from six sizzling frying pans. I’ve instructed everyone to add in meat and vegetables, but to only turn their steaks every 4 minutes. “You want your veg to be blackened on one side only,” I waltz around the room knowingly surveying each frying pan. “It will add a yummy smoky flavour to your dish.”

“Oh heavens above!”

What’s this now? “Is something the matter, Dotty?” I make my way over to the oldest member of the group.

“I think I may have added a bit too much olive oil.” The white haired woman titters and backs away from her frying pan as I near.

I’ll say she put too much oil in, her pan is positively splattering grease everywhere. “It’s fine, everyone!” I shout, moving steadily forwards. “I’ll just turn down the heat and — oh!”

Just before I can get my hand near the gas dial a loud pop emits from the steak. A huge glob of oil lands on the back of my forearm. You’d think I’d be used to the searing pain of grease burned flesh after all my years in cooking. I’ve learned to control my reactions to pain, but Dotty clearly hasn’t.

“Oh dear!” The old woman shouts and pushes forward.

Turning, I intend on reassuring the retiree. And therein lies the biggest mistake I could make of the evening. Possibly the most tragic error of my life thus far.

I hadn’t realised, but Dotty was reaching forward. In what seems like a split second I’m still pulling my hand away from the splattering grease. Our arms crash together and I’m caught off balance. I also didn’t realise just how much oil had accumulated on the floor from frying up out of Dotty’s pan. As I’m turning my foot slides through the grease. I slip and fall and I’ve managed to catch the handle of the pan in the same instance.

Yes, my life does actually flash before my eyes at this particularly perilous moment in slow motion time. It’s as though I can see all the hot ingredients fly through the air like they’re moving through thick water. I’m helpless to do anything about it as I too seem to be drowning in the slow-motion uselessness of watered-down time.

Just as suddenly, time fast forwards and seems to catch up with itself. Unfortunately this is at the precise moment when I’ve landed flat on my arse and all the flaming hot meat and veg in the flipped up frying pan comes tumbling down onto my legs.

Someone screams and I think it was me. I’m not so sure though because I’m being helped to my feet by the two twenty-something lads in the class.

“Ha, hoo, hee,” I start to hyperventilate and kick at my legs. “It burns!” I screech and do the only plausible thing that comes to mind. Quickly kicking off my shoes I proceed to undo the button of my new smaller sized jeans. After that I quickly flip down the zip and immediately shove my denims down and off my legs.

“Careful!” One of the guys shouts as another grabs me under my armpits.

“I’ve got you!” He bellows while the other four ladies in the room all back away whimpering.

Lad number one bends down and yanks my trousers off. It’s at this point I’m not thinking about how embarrassed I could be during such inappropriate nudity on my part. I’m not even thinking very deeply about the burns that my legs might be suffering. No, what I’m most concerned about for some stupid reason is that I’m grateful I never did purchase those super-skinny jeans. If I had done this awkward situation might have been entirely more catastrophic.

As it is though, the young man is able to get my trousers off quick as a flash, which is something I never thought I’d be able to witness another man —apart from my