My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding - By Katya Starkey Page 0,59

shake his hand and I’m next introduced to the make-up artist. After that I’m told who the other ladies are that will be participating in this photoshoot.

“Nice to meet you, Emily.” The woman called Sharon says. She’s got bleached blonde hair that frizzes to her shoulders and she’s wearing track suit bottoms and a t-shirt.

“Lovely to meet you, Emily.” The other lady’s name is Oona. She has a short purple bob hair cut with two strands in the front that are longer than the back. She’s not dressed as casually as Sharon. Oona has on a black business suit and heels as high as my own.

“Ladies!” Naomi claps her hands. “If you’ll step over here we’ve got a few outfits you can each try on.

I’m guessing Sharon knew about the clothes change, it’s the only reason I can think of why she’d show up dressed like she’d just rolled out of bed. Not that I’m one to judge. I should have worn trainers like Sharon, myself. It certainly would have saved me walking on the West Malvern hills in these ridiculously high wedge shoes. I, however, wasn’t informed that there would be a change of wardrobe available.

I manage to find something suitable to wear that makes my waist look smaller. The make-up artist fixes my face so that I’m not forced into keeping my too red lipstick on.

My hair and Oona’s are already done, so we wait while Sharon has her frizzy locks tamed.

I share my bottle of diet wine with the other ladies and this is when Naomi asks us the newspaper interview questions. They’re inquiries about how we feel about our weight and whether or not we’re thinking about dieting and exercising. Nothing too intrusive, so I don’t indulge too much information. I certainly don’t expand on the fact that I’ve been absolutely obsessing about my weight lately. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that a bride-to-be would be into the diet thing on a hardcore level.

The make-up artist is also apparently the hairstylist, for she curls Sharon’s hair into the most amazing golden blonde waves. She’s like a woman transformed in her wrap dress. We all look amazing for the photoshoot as the photographer starts snapping away, behind his dark sunglasses.

When I leave the studios an hour later I’m feeling so pleased with myself, not even the steepness of this blasted hillside can pull me down. I arrive home on a high. I actually feel pretty and I’m loath to take down my hair. Callum hadn’t seen too much of my bridal updo when I’d FaceTimed him, especially not behind the huge bogie I’d wiped across the phone screen. Besides, my bridal style is supposed to be a surprise for our wedding day.

It feels good when I take all the pins out of my hair though, and soaking in a hot bath afterwards is even more soothing.

What a perfect end to a lovely afternoon. As I lie in the bath I’m feeling quite excited about seeing myself in the newspaper tomorrow. I’m positive the photos turned out amazing!

Chapter 14

There are two types of people online; normal individuals and trolls. Wait. No. Correction, there are trolls everywhere on the internet except for on Facebook. If I do get bullied (or if someone simply disagrees with me) on Facebook, I simply block them.

Now that I’ve logged onto the local newspaper website this morning, I find I’m in no control over who gets blocked from commenting on the page where I’m featured from yesterday’s photoshoot. And there are some very mean buggers online today. Most of the meannies are women commenters. Obviously these women haven’t used their real names, the cowards. Under the article about curvy women in the comments section most of the blokes who have had something to say have written quite nice statements.

Well, their comments are a bit on the lewd side with statements such as: “Saucy!” And: “I’d bed that!” Or: “Hook me up with the blonde hotness in the middle!” I’m in the middle on the page and my favourite comment from one guy has to be: “Get your tits out for the lads, Emily!”

In comparison with the comments from female trolls, the men’s statements are quite welcome. I know the women who commented are just jealous because Sharon, Oona and I look gorgeous all done up and featured as ladies with curves. The female trolls simply call us fat. What a laugh! I bet these troll comments are coming from women sitting