The Lighter Side of Large Read Free Page A

say.
    Sands slams a fist on the table. “Then exercise! You have to go to the wedding to show them up and you need to look your best. Make them see that no one disrespects Bella. Ruin their wedding by looking fabulous.”
    “Oh-oh-oh.” Riyaan pants. “I have the best ideas to ruin the wedding. When my cousin got married, someone ran over a possum in the road next to the place where they had their outdoor reception. The smell ruined it for everyone. Even the cake took on the stench, so what you need to do is get a carcass and place it near the cake. And then you should spike the bride’s champagne so she passes out and there’s no wedding night…”
    “They’re past that point already,” I point out.
    “No, no, no.” Sands joins in the conspiring. “Just get drunk before you get there and make yourself vomit on Tiresa’s gown.” She claps her hands and cackles. “Or when it’s time to toast, give a speech about how kind Tiresa is to take Mika off your hands because he could never get it up in bed.”
    I’ve had enough. “I’ve gotta run. My dad’s expecting me, then Tiresa’s picking up the kids at 4 p.m.” I slide out of the booth, placing both hands on the table for support. It tips towards me and Cat. In a panic, I lift my hands and start to stand up, but my belly catches on the edge of the table. The table tips the other way, spilling coffee, creamer, sugar and spoons onto Sands’ and Riyaan’s laps.
    “Sorry,” I say, blushing with shame. I hate booths.
    “Not to worry,” says Riyaan, who leaps to his feet and mops up the mess with a towel he has tucked into his work apron. “I’ll get you another one to go.”
    “Make that a double,” says Cat.
    CHAPTER THREE
“How wonderful to have a magic mirror which allows you to see what you want to see, so that even with bulges, rolls and size 22 trousers, you ARE the fairest of them all.”
FROM BELLA’S BLOG
http://www.thelightersideoflarge.com/ch3
    Dad lives eight kilometres from my house. It’s an easy drive, but a hard one knowing what I’ll find at the end of the journey.
    Dad doesn’t use his front door so I slip around the side to the sliding glass patio door-another tormentor to remind me of how I look.
    I slide open the door. “Dad? It’s me,” I call.
    “Right here.” He stirs in his recliner chair.
    “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry,” I say.
    “I dozed off just now,” he says. There’s a crossword puzzle and a pencil on his lap. “How’s my girl?” he asks as I lean down to give him a hug and a peck on the cheek.
    Dad is the most constant thing in my life, a sweet man with a fiery Scottish temper when aroused, which isn’t often. Though only fifty-four, he looks a decade older from the trauma of fighting - and beating - cancer. His body is still emaciated, though.
    “What brings you by?” Dad asks with his warm smile.
    “Can’t a girl visit her Dad for no reason but that she loves him?”
    Dad studies my face and I know I can’t hide this most recent hurt from him. “Come on, now. Tell me what’s wrong. There’s no use holding it in, you know.”
    I ease down onto the old sofa, its springs groaning in protest under my weight.
    “Well? Get on with it,” he orders kindly.
    I burst into tears. “Oh Dad!” I sob. “Tiresa and Mika are getting married. I found out through Mama Rose, who wants me to go to the engagement party and the wedding just because they’re family. It’s not fair. Why doesn’t anyone take my side? Mika abandons me and the kids and Tiresa stabs me in the back, but I’m expected to be nice and act like nothing’s wrong!” I bury my face in my hands and the tears flow.
    Dad rises from his chair and comes over to wrap his arms around me. Thin as they are, they are the strongest arms in the world to me.
    “What did I do to deserve this? I quit school to marry him. I stayed at home to take care of the house and the kids, but that still wasn’t good enough. Tiresa swoops in and steals my