Chapter 13: M is for Monday
“I hate Mondays,”
“Who doesn’t?” Jenny replied. I looked up to see her taking off her jacket and I swore again banging the stupid computer keyboard not like that would actually help.
“The computers aren’t working,” I groaned rubbing my head. Didn’t we only update the software a few weeks ago? Surely they can’t be crap already.
“Did you try flicking the switch on?”
Oh right, “Duh,” I said trying to hide my smile as I kicked the switchboard, which shouldn’t have been done as that was dangerous, and tried switching the computers on again. It worked. And here I was sitting for the past hour trying to find a way to turn this stupid computer on, what a silly billy.
“Hey,” I said clearing my throat as I arranged things for today’s meetings. Jenny walked back out from the back room carrying two cups of coffee and I smiled my thanks as I grabbed one glass, “Do you think I can get Wednesday off?”
She walked around the reception area to the waiting couches and sat down grabbing a magazine sipping on her coffee while I placed mine on the table. I could never drink hot coffee, it burned my tongue.
“Yea I guess, why?”
The question really was, why was I wasting my time asking her, I mean I owned this too, but it was common courtesy to ask or more tell her. Just to make sure she was happy with this.
“Well, I have a date,”
At this Jenny’s attention flew from the latest gossip and at me, a grin coming onto her face, “Oh my god, really?”
Nah, I was kidding. I nodded.
“Someone,” I said clearing my throat, maybe I shouldn’t have brought this up. Well it wasn’t confirmed but Liam kept messaging me when. And whilst I wanted at least a month to lose weight and get into shape so I could wear a flattering dress, I realised he was not going to wait that long.
But could I call it a date? It was just a friendly finally meet each other, not a date date.
“Tell me!” Jenny was in front of me and I jumped, how did she get across the room so quickly. I shook my head reaching for the still hot coffee, it gave me an excuse not to reply to her. But it burned my tongue and I choked a bit.
“It’s nothing. An old friend of mine and I are meeting up, not a date date,” and since when did I start lying to my best friend? Jenny hoarded me with question and I carefully dodged, her, I didn’t want to lie too much but I really didn’t want to mention how I met him.
Because that was just going to raise OPS, over protective sister syndrome where she will lecture me about meeting people online, yet she does that all the time. Except this was through pizza, not online.
I stretched my legs under the table, wincing when my thighs protested, I guess pain was good. No pain no gain so the eighty squats, or more thirty good ones and the rest were fail, paid off this morning.
“We should go shopping!”
I looked up, “Why?”
“Well you have a date, and I just need summer clothes,” The mention of summer made my stomach clench, was it soon already? I mean the storm outside proved that it was Winter, but summer was coming fast, and in no time I would be ready. I think.
“I guess,” I mean there was nothing wrong, I did need a nice dress, or maybe I should just wear jeans.
“Let’s go after work,” I groaned. But I was going to be all tired and sweaty and looking at my ankle boots with a good ten centimetres of heel, these weren’t made for walking around.
“I don’t know,” I said as I clicked. Was I really playing solitaire at work?
But some days, especially Mondays, no one wanted to do work. And Jenny didn’t care as she kept doing the puzzles in the magazines, something usually I did.
“Well the shops will be empty on Mondays. No one likes Mondays,” Agreed.
“Yeah, just quickly though, I have something tonight,” she nodded, that something was a date with a running track around my house.
I had two days to pack as much fitness as I could and eat fruits and healthy so I looked good on Wednesday. But some part of me was telling me to go home and sleep and eat ice-cream whilst the other part was excited about my exercises.
I needed an excuse to exercises, I hated running in public. I always felt like eyes were on me, because they were, everyone would make eye contact or look at you when they run, but they wouldn’t remember you three seconds later. It was just that you made it into their eye sight range.
Yet that still bothered me. That’s it! I needed to get cat food anyways, so I can run to the shops and back.
I tapped the pen on the table absent minded whilst resting my chin on the heel of my palm, but what do I wear?
I really didn’t have any “Running clothes” All I had were leggings. Maybe one of those sport jackets at the back of my closet.
But do people wear jackets when they run, well too bad, it didn’t expose all my bouncing stomach fat and breasts, and hopefully I’ll tone up to finally wear a tank top and gain some confidence when I ran.
I nodded, it was a plan. But first, I had to go shopping.
“Well, how does it look. Show me!,”
I wanted to cry. Staring into the cubicle I didn’t get what I did wrong. I was positive I made some weight loss. I mean I felt healthier, even if it was just 0.5% it was a start. But staring at the spagetti strap dress it looked wrong.
My legs looked great, they were fit and toned but that’s where it stopped.
I had no waist.
It went from my fatty shoulders, to my chubby hands where my dress strained over m breasts and then it never dipped in for the waist, instead it just went further out across my waist and hips.
I turned around looking at my side, jesus I look pregnant, that was the only other explanation to why my stomach was that big.
I bit my lip, I had to go a size up, but then that would be a size fourteen. I cannot be that big!
I wanted to rip this dress in half. Maybe it was just the material that made me look fat, but the last ten dresses all had different material, and not one looked good on me. I sucked in my stomach, which was uncomfortable and looked again. It made a difference to my side view, making me look more “Flat” but my front didn’t change.
Groaning I ran a hand through my hair, it was getting hot in the small cubicle. I looked back at the pair of black shorts I tried, I had never really worn shorts before, unless it was school uniform and went to my knees, but these short ones stopped mid thigh and looked great.
Yet I couldn’t find a decent top, because full sleeves made it look weird and any other type made me look fat at the shoulders and hands.
I really thought I lost weight
I pulled the dress off angrily and threw on my clothes again.
“What? Didn’t you try them on?” Jenny was waiting outside, dresses and dresses in her hands, all that looked amazing on her.
“I did, but I hate the colours,” I lied as I placed them on the reject stand they had. I tugged my hands into my pocket as she tried offering me some of her clothes.
Yeah right, because the last time I fit into a size eight was in high school, and even then it was because I sucked in my stomach.
My stomach was one part of me that was always never toned, and I was running out of ideas on how to tone it. I’ve done thrity crunched a night yet they showed no progress.
Maybe it was the bra? It made my chest look too big and disgustingly squashed, why do I have breasts?
I wanted to be flat chested. No, okay fine I just wanted to look good for once, was that too much to ask
“Well we can go to Myer, they might have some nicer dresses,”
“I’m just going to head home,” I said. My whole happy mood that I started with just kept dropping when nothing looked good anymore.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded giving her a quickly goodbye hug and making my way out of the store as fast as I could. All the eyes that met me giving me chills, were they looking at me cause I was fat and my hair was a mess and I was wearing too many layers?
Or was I just falling into their eye sight range.
I walked home trying to get my thoughts processed. I mean shouldn’t I be happy with what I had.
Like my looks, I wasn’t that bad on the eyes. I could be called cute, and sometimes pretty when I tried. But why do some girls get everything, the beauty and the body while my face and body had no connection.
But then I could tell that was changing too, I swear my cheeks were more puffy today.
I frowned as I kicked my door open and threw my bag onto the ground. I heard Satan meow in the kitchen but I went straight to the couch, tear filled eyes and my mind swirling with negative thoughts.
Why was I so rounded?
Maybe I should just cancel this stupid date.
Why can’t I find something simple to wear?
I still had one whole day and a bit before the event but I had no idea what to wear. Especially since nothing worked at the shopping trip.
I looked at all the outfits I placed on the bed, and none of them had dresses. Maybe I’ll just stay away from dresses till I shape up my arms. So goodbye crunches and hello push ups. Well I knew which pair of jeans I was wearing.
Black was always a flattering shape and with these jeans my legs looked longer than they were, but then again I was pretty short. But these jeans looked good.
Now, a top. That’s wear the struggles began. Being five four had disadvantages, the tops were long, really long. And crop tops fitted me like a normal top. So what do I wear? I looked between the casual to fancy piles I had.
At least with black jeans most tops went with it. But I didn’t want to show off my arms, that left the full long sleeves tops. But then I looked covered top to bottom, but that was okay, right?
“What do you think Charlie?” Charlie didn’t think anything. Sleeping on my pillow with his tail wrapped around him, he couldn’t care less. Especially since his claw was stretched, out of his way, to be placed on a white colour top, ruining it with his grubby palms.
Thanks a lot Charlie, but I wasn’t going to wear white anyways. Not flattering, besides finding a bra that wouldn’t shine through in light was hard.
I hurried over to my closet opening the drawer, please tell me I had a sexy bra. Not that he was going to see it, but I was sure I can’t wear one of my home bras that would be crinkly through the top.
“Satan get off my ski-“oh yeah, I have skirts. That would be good, can show off my legs. I walked over grabbing the skirt under Satan, a long black pencil skirt. And I knew just to wear with it, and play the excuse of “I just came to work,”
Because a black full hands top and a black skirt would look classy, maybe I’ll look like a waitress. Okay scrap that plan. It was my work uniform when I was an event hostess, black shirt and pencil skirt, black of course, and not only did it give an illusion of a nice shape it made me look skinny. Nearly my ideal figure.
But that would look disastrous now. Maybe I should go in a nice baggy woolen top and leggings, not that is the epitome of comfortable and I wouldn’t mind rocking up, because at least I will be confident in my home clothes.
But I would probably be mistaken as a cleaner, and kicked out, or not even allowed to enter. Right. He did say dinner, so I assumed it was a restaurant, please don’t be a fancy restaurant. Which brought me back to the dresses, maybe that was the safest option, and then wear a nice jacket, that hopefully I won’t need to take off, and that will work.
I still had the trench coat in the back of the closet, that would be perfect, it was classy and it was winter and it was light and did nothing to shield the cold so I wouldn’t have to take it off unless it gets really hot inside.
Maybe I should just cancel.
My phone started in the middle of me packing everything up and I looked at the time.
Who would be calling me now?
I dropped the jeans I was folding and crawled over to the bed side cabinet and plucked my phone from its charging cable, “Hello?”
“Hey It’s Vanessa!,”
I narrowed my eyes just double checking the clock time and then looking at the caller ID, why was she calling me so late.
“Oh yeah, hey...is everything okay?”
My first thoughts went to the cake, was there an issue with the cake? Did we have to find someone else. With the wedding so soon I don’t think we can afford set backs like this. Which also reminded me that I had to tell Jenny to get a move on with the menu. There was still food testing day, I dibs not going to this one.
“Well I just have a question. Is the Reed family doing cake boxes?”
Oh crap, I forgot to ask him. Usually most wedding had cake boxes, small treats of cake that the guests could take home.
“Um, yeah I think so,”
“How many? Also the colours, and the size? Also when should I book you both to come back for another taste testing. The Chef wasn’t to make a mock example especially since we haven’t had an order like this. And Alexander said two cakes, is he sure because they’re big cak-,”
“Whoa, whoa calm down,” I said rubbing the back of my head. What was with all the questions?
“Didn’t he give you his number, and shouldn’t you be calling him for all this?”
“Yeah. I did. No one’s picking up, some out of service complaint,” Oh right. I looked at the time sighing,“Maybe because most people would be sleeping. Give him a call later and he should give you more information. I’ll check his wedding profile and see if he updated anything about the guest list but just aim for around 300 guests that would take home the boxes,”
I ended the call thinking, if he wanted two cakes that were as bi as that, were they inviting the whole town or something? Well I wouldn’t be surprised.
I sat on the bed looking at the mess and groaned. I’ll clean this up later.