My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding - By Katya Starkey Page 0,50
medical scientists create a safe way of not ever, ever having a period will be the one and true happy day for me.
Such is my life being a woman though, I’ve no choice but to deal with my period coming on today. I roll over in bed, stuff my hand into the bedside cabinet and come up with menstruation medication. I may have no choice in the amount of blood that oozes out disgustingly from between my legs, but I’ll be damned if I’m just going to lie here and let cramps over run my life. I’ve got to get to the salon. I’m trying out different bridal hair styles for the big day.
After swallowing two pain killers I drag my phone off the bedside table. I’m going to lie here and wait for the medication to kick in, so I might as well check my Facebook and Twitter feeds. Also, I’m feeling quite lonesome having awoken after Callum already left the house, so I send him a text message consisting of a single icon. No words, just a little picture of a spewing lava volcano.
My fiancé texts back promptly:
Poor you on your period. X
He understood my picture message perfectly. I text him back an icon of a frowny face and I get many hugs and heart pictures in reply. Who needs actual words in this day and age of technology? Mini icons speak volumes in text message format. Although, virtual hugs don’t make up for lonely feelings, so I FaceTime my fiancé.
Callum’s face comes on the screen. “Oh yes you’re definitely on the period.”
That’s his greeting? “Charming.” I grumble, but I must admit I probably do look like shit.
He laughs. “Sorry, babe. You know you’re always gorgeous to me at any time of the month.”
“Good save.” I wink at him from my prone position in bed. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re going to have to hire me a solicitor.”
Callum’s face, on my small phone screen, has turned very frowny. “A solicitor?”
“Yes, I’m being stalked.”
“Stalked?”
“Is this phone working properly? Can you hear me, or are you just repeating everything I say to be annoying?”
“Okay little miss period with attitude, that’s enough from you.”
Sticking out my lower lip, I pout like a child. “I’m serious, Cal. This kid from the Meli Spa is following me around town!”
“Oh really?”
“Yes really. I’m worried he’s going to murder me in my sleep soon. I need a person of the law to help me file a restraining order.”
My fiancé, who isn’t taking me seriously enough, pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to get back to work now, my love. Give my best to your stalker and I’ll see you tonight.”
“What?” I jerk upright. “You can’t just ignore this, Cal.” I whinge into the screen of the phone. “Thomas is so irritating!”
“Good bye, darling.” My similarly irritating fiancé waves to me from inside my phone. Then he blows me a kiss and ends the call.”
I harrumph out loud. “So much for chivalry.” Honestly, Callum isn’t nearly as jealous of other men as I think he should be. Not that I consider a spotty teenager to be a grown up man in the slightest.
Sliding out of bed, my feet hit the carpeted floor depressingly. Is it possible to have depressed feet? I’m certain that today sad feet are indeed entirely possible. So I shuffle sluggishly towards the bathroom. Once I’m on the bare tiled floor, I stop and stare at the scales.
Should I step on it? I don’t know if I want to weigh myself after eating wrong so recently. There is much trepidation in my heart. It’s just a set of bathroom scales I’m looking at. I should get over myself and just check my weight. I mean really, I know I’ll probably have gained a few pounds. It’s not like I’ll step on the scales and they’ll reveal an entire stone in weight gain. I’m just being silly.
Either that or I’m properly afraid.
I’m a bride to be. I wonder if all soon-to-be-brides develop eating disorders. It’s definitely not normal for me to be standing here for ages like this, just staring and staring at the scales. It’s probably going to take some kind of mental miracle to push me onto the glass platform. I don’t know how I’m going to convince my brain to get over the fear of flab.
I look up and glance into the mirror that’s on the wall.
“Look at that, brain!” I’m talking out loud to myself.