Single Wide Female: The Bucket List Mega Bundle - 24 Books (Books #1-24)

by Lillianna Blake

  Max set his glass of wine down on the coffee table. He didn’t look away from me as he did.

  “Well, I guess if you’re not wise enough to see it in the first place, maybe you don’t deserve it,” he said.

  His words were so cryptic that I had no idea what to think of them.

  He stood up from the couch and smiled down at me. “If it makes you happy, Sammy, that’s all that matters to me. Just make sure you pick someone who is worthy of the amazing person that you are.”

  “I’ll try,” I said.

  “Night, Sam.” He ruffled my hair and then walked toward the door.

  Part of me wanted to jump up from the chair and demand that he explain what he meant. Did it have to do with me? Did it have nothing to do with me? But as he opened the door and stepped out, I held my tongue.

  Max was everything to me, as my friend—and that was worth more to me than any romance ever could be. He knew where I was, if he ever wanted to come to his senses. Until then, I was getting right back on the horse. I walked over to my computer and sat down in front of it. After checking my blog I logged on to the dating site. There were four more messages from new guys. Men I never would have met without putting myself out there. It might be a game of trial and error, but all it took was once for the man of my dreams to end up right under my nose.

  Single Wide Female: The Bucket List

  8 Learn Yoga

  By

  Lillianna Blake

  Copyright © 2015 Lillianna Blake

  Cover design by Beetiful Book Covers

  All rights reserved.

  LilliannaBlake.com

  Chapter 1

  His sweet smile was frozen in time. The slightly arrogant squint of his eyes along with his confident expression made him seem all too sure of himself. It was probably that confidence that grabbed the attention of just about every woman he met, including me. I stared at him with a mix of adoration and disdain. No matter what I tried to do, I couldn’t escape him. He was always there, haunting me from the inside. I glared straight into his eyes. He wasn’t going to torture me for the rest of my life, no matter how beautiful he was. I had to find a way to get out from under his spell.

  “I guess I could start by turning my phone off,” I said.

  I pressed the off button on my phone and Max’s selfie disappeared. I had banned myself from his Facebook and Instagram pages but he still insisted on texting me pictures which I could not avoid looking at.

  I dropped my phone into my purse and tried not to think about what he might be doing right at that moment. To distract myself I flipped on the television. Of course the television show that Max and I loved to watch together was on.

  “Ugh!”

  I stomped into the kitchen. There was one dish in the sink from that morning’s breakfast. I scrubbed it until it was sparkling clean.

  The problem with having a crush on your best friend that you’ve known for over ten years is that you can’t erase him from your life. Max was a big part of just about every good and bad memory that I had of the past decade, so everything I said and did reminded me of him. Not to mention the fact that he had a key to my apartment and a habit of dropping by at work each day to see me. I couldn’t very well tell him to scram, since I didn’t want to lose him as my best friend.

  I had tried to distract myself with other men, but none of them made me feel the way that Max did. Instead, I would typically spend the entire date comparing everything the man I was with said and did, to Max. Max always won. He was just the whole package, and I couldn’t bring myself to settle for a poor substitute. Of course, it occurred to me that I wasn’t giving the other men a fair shot.

  Really, I just wanted to appreciate Max for who he was, rather than expecting something more than he was obviously willing to give.

  Max certainly didn’t even seem to notice, I thought. He was likely out on yet another date with yet another woman. He never hit a dry spell, like I had. He was all about fun and variety. The very idea of Max making a commitment was almost laughable. He was always honest with the women he was with about his free-spirited nature. I once asked him why he didn’t have longer relationships.

  “Why waste my time with the wrong one, when I could be out looking for the right one?” he’d said.

  “How do you know they’re the wrong woman?”

  “I just know,” he said. “When I meet the right one, I’ll know.”

  I wished I could feel so confident in my own instincts. Logically I knew that Max was not the one for me, so why couldn’t I just stop thinking about him?

  I sighed and tossed down the dishrag. The soapy water splashed up into my face.

  It probably didn’t help that I wasn’t feeling as confident as I could have been. My entire life I had fought the battle of the bulge. I wanted to be slim and svelte like the women that Max dated, but my body was more along the lines of full and curvy.

  I’d been trying to lose weight, but the weight loss wasn’t as important to me as a change of perspective was. I’d become determined to love my body and find my beauty regardless of size and shape. My thoughts turned towards my bucket list—a work-in-progress that had become a big part of my life lately.

  “That’s what I need. I need to get into the next item on my list. I need to remember that I am worthy and beautiful just the way I am, and if he’s too blind to see that, then he’s not the man for me.”

  I left the kitchen behind and walked into my bedroom. Everything in my room was designed to inspire me. I had put up inspirational sayings and pictures on my walls. I had traded out my old dingy comforter for a bright floral pattern. I had even painted the walls to try to give myself more of a sense of who I was.

  Instead of its being a place where I hid away with a box of my favorite cookies when I was feeling down, I had done my best to turn it into a sanctuary. A place where I could regroup and remember that it was not about how I look as much as it was about who I am.

  I sat down on the edge of my bed. In the drawer of my bedside table I found the bucket list I had written. Recently I’d tried many new things. The next item on my list was to start an exercise class.

  Being heavy made the idea of walking into an exercise class a little frightening for me. I had always avoided joining a class because I was sure that people would judge me for being heavy in the first place. Then there was the actual exercise. I liked to be active, but I was terrified of humiliating myself by not being able to complete the class or panting like a dog on a summer day.

  It just seemed like a better idea to try to work out alone at home. Of course when it came down to a choice between doing the latest exercise craze or catching up on my favorite TV series, TV often won. On my list I had written ideas of different classes I could take; among them were pilates, spinning, and yoga.

  “Yoga could be good,” I said. “I get to learn meditation and mindfulness. Maybe it will help me get Max off my mind. Plus, it’s not spinning.” I shuddered at the thought of the classes I had peeked in on now and then. There was always some very serious sweating happening. “Yoga it is.”

  With that decided, I tucked the list carefully back into my drawer. With a sense of determination I opened up my computer and looked up the local classes. I found where there was a yoga class meeting tonight. It hadn’t been part of my plan to start so quickly, but it seemed like perfect timing. I just had to get a yoga mat and some yoga pants.

  I glanced at my watch. I had about an hour before my shift at Fluff and Stuff. There was a little women’s boutique about a block away from the laundromat. I could stop on my way to work.

  As I dressed for work, I began getting more and more excited. Every new item on the bucket list that I tried was like a brand new adventure for me, and I couldn’t wait to see where this next item would lead me on my journey.

  Chapter 2

  In the city where I live there’s an unspoken rule. If you can walk to a place, you should. Since my apartment was only a few blocks from work I usuall
y always walked. It was also meant to be good exercise for me.

  The only problem was that my walk to work took me past a coffee shop. Coffee in itself is fairly low-calorie and safe. But whenever I’d buy one, I’d get asked the worst questions. Like, do you want cream and sugar? Would you like any flavored syrup? How about a little whipped cream on top? By the time I’ve walked out of the coffee shop I’ve had enough calories in that hot little cup to eliminate breakfast and lunch.

  Of course it’s not healthy not to eat a balanced meal, so I’d then have to stop in the bakery to pick up a fresh muffin or bagel. Basically, my walk to work is more like an obstacle course of temptation.

  Luckily I had only a little time, and I needed to buy yoga pants, so I skipped the coffee shop and the bakery today.

  Fran’s Fine Fashions was the name of the boutique.

  I loved to shop. I’d enjoy it even more if the clothes I loved would actually fit me. As a rule, I didn’t usually go into little shops, as they tended to only carry two sizes—smaller than me, and much smaller than me. It can be very disappointing to attempt to find clothes in places like that. But I decided to take a chance, as it was the only shop I could get to before work.

  When I stepped inside, I was pleased to see that there was an entire rack of yoga pants. The shop itself was small—one room, with about six circular racks in the middle of the store and long racks along the walls. It had a distinct scent of expensive perfume and the lighting was just dim enough to make me have to squint at the price tags.

  Behind the small counter a woman was perched on a stool, studying the phone she held in her hand. She glanced up once at me, pursed her lips, and then looked quickly back down at her phone. I knew that she was pretending that she hadn’t seen me. I didn’t mind, actually. I liked to shop without a salesperson breathing down my neck. But I did get the paranoid sensation that she was not happy I was there.

  I pushed the thought out of my mind and began sorting through the rack for pants in my size. The hanger squeaked as I slid it across the metal bar. After a few minutes of looking through just about every pair of pants on the rack, I stared at the same number—eight, yet again. It seemed as if the rack only held two sizes—six and eight. I would have had to sew two pants together to get anywhere near my size.

  I glanced up at the woman behind the counter. She still had her eyes glued to her phone. She didn’t appear to be the least bit interested in helping me. I looked around the shop and saw that there were no more yoga pants. One more time I browsed through the pants, but I had looked through the entire rack and it definitely seemed that they didn’t have anything my size.

  I should just go, I thought to myself. I knew I could find yoga pants in my size if I shopped around a little. However, I didn’t have time to do that before my shift at Fluff and Stuff.

  I looked over at the woman behind the counter again. She was so slender that I was sure she would swim in even the size sixes on the rack. I wanted to be bold and just ask if she had larger sizes in the back, but her demeanor left me intimidated. Not all thin women made me feel uneasy, but the sidelong looks this woman was giving me, combined with the slight curl of her lip, made it clear to me that she didn’t think I belonged in her store. Since I couldn’t find the pants I needed in my size, it seemed she might be right.

  I tried to think of something else I could wear instead. The only thing that I could think of was a pair of ratty old sweatpants. Not only would that not give the impression I was hoping for, but they had originally belonged to Max. I had borrowed them several months ago. I knew if I had to wear them to class I would not be able to stop thinking about him.

  It was silly that I was having such a debate over whether to simply ask for service.

  “Excuse me, miss?” I asked.

  She stared at her phone for another long moment. Then with a faint huff she looked over at me.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  I swallowed back my reaction to her lack of customer service skills.

  “I was wondering if you have any larger sizes of these pants in the back,” I said. I forced myself to maintain eye contact. Too often I acted ashamed of my size, when I knew there was nothing to be ashamed of when it came to my body. I was a paying customer just like everyone else.

  Chapter 3

  The saleswoman continued to stare at me intently, making me feel slightly more uncomfortable than I already felt.

  “Well, you know—they do stretch,” the woman said. She looked back at her phone as if that had solved the matter.

  I was so stunned by her nasty behavior that I almost turned around and walked out of the shop. Almost. In the past, maybe I would have. But things were different now. I was not going to be dismissed just because this woman didn’t approve of how I looked.

  “I am aware that they stretch. I am also aware that the tighter they are, the thinner they become. I will be much more comfortable in pants my size. I am just asking if you have any more sizes in the back,” I said. I did my best to keep my tone even. I had a bit of a reputation for truly losing it when I was pushed hard enough.

  “Alright, I’ll look. I’m pretty sure we don’t even order things in your size,” she said.

  I bit my tongue to keep from snapping at her. She put down her phone and walked into the back room of the shop. A few minutes later, I was wondering if she was ever going to come back. Finally she stepped out of the room.

  “I found one pair that looks like it might work,” she said. “I had to dig through all of the new stuff. I think these must have been overlooked when we changed the stock.”

  I raised an eyebrow. I knew the point she was trying to get across. Even though she was being snippy and insensitive, I was still going to buy the pants.

  Until she held them up for me to see.

  These pants had to be the loudest pair of yoga pants I’d ever seen. Not only were they bright orange, they had purple shiny stars all over them. Stars that would stretch when I put the pants on. I had never seen any adult yoga pants like these.

  “Are you sure that’s all you have?” I asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  “No other colors or styles?”

  “This is it. I probably shouldn’t even sell you these because it’s old inventory. But since you insisted…”

  In the back of my mind I wondered if this woman had somehow slipped out the back and went to another store to buy the most ridiculous pants she could find. Of course she hadn’t done that—I was just being paranoid—but really!

  “Okay, I’ll take them,” I said.

  She looked as shocked as I felt as she rang up the pants. I paid more than I wanted to, and then turned on my heel and walked out of the store. I tried to do so with pride, but it was hard to with those repulsive pants tucked into my purse.

  One of the biggest changes that I’d made in my life so far was to try to look at everything with a positive spin. To some it might sound like psychobabble, but I imagined if I was determined to be happy, I might just end up being happy. I didn’t really have anything to be unhappy about, other than not having stumbled onto the love of my life just yet. Taking things lightly had become a way of life for me. I pushed the incident at the shop out of my mind and hurried down the sidewalk to Fluff and Stuff.

  I loved my job at the laundromat—to me it was my home away from home. I enjoyed the smell of laundry detergent and especially liked the interaction with the local customers.

  As I walked in the door, another employee, Enid, was getting ready to leave. Enid flopped the hood of her jacket up over the top of her head.

  “I wasn’t sure if you were going to show,” Enid said.

  “Sorry, I got hung up.”

  “Mmhm,” Enid said. She tugged at the pants sticking out of my purse. “Do you have any explanation for this?”

  I laughed. “I don’t think there is an explanation for these.”

  “I agree with you.”

  Enid laughed as well. She and I were work friends,
though we didn’t see each other very often outside of the laundromat. Enid had a busy life and different interests. But we got along just fine when we worked together.

  “You always manage to surprise me Samantha,” she said. “There’s a few loads rolling. Not too much today.”

  “Okay, great.”

  Enid waved to me as she walked out the door. I walked over to one of the big dryers, which was spinning with an extra-large load of clothing. It still had a few minutes left on it. I checked the list beside the register to see when pick-ups and drop-offs were due. It looked to be a fairly slow day.

  After straightening up the items in the shop, I walked back over to the dryer, which had just finished. I popped open the door and fluffed the laundry inside to make sure that it wouldn’t wrinkle. Then I pulled over one of the laundry trolleys. It had a flat surface on top for folding and room for storage underneath. I began piling the load on top of the laundry trolley.

  Doing someone’s laundry was like having an invitation into all of their sordid secrets. More than once I had found things in pockets that shouldn’t have been there—as well as undergarments that most certainly didn’t belong to the wives of the customers who brought the clothes in. There were also the much smaller details. I learned which customers were struggling with their weight, or trying to reinvent themselves with a new style, or had a new baby at home. It was fun to discover things about people.

  When I heard the door open, I turned with a smile to greet the new customer. However, the person who walked through the door was not a customer at all. It was Max.

  Chapter 4

  Max smiled at me and held up a brown paper bag.

  “I brought lunch,” he said.

  Beautiful, wonderful, thoughtful Max. I hoped he didn’t notice what felt like a blush in my cheeks.

  “Oh, thanks.” I gave him a quick smile and continued folding the laundry. “You can just leave it over there if you want.”

  “Aren’t you going to eat with me?” he asked.

  “I’m not really hungry yet.”