The Girl's Guide to Getting Hitched: A charming feel-good read

by Sophie Hart

  But the assistant was already shaking her head. ‘No, we only have the size eight sample in that one.’

  ‘Oh.’ Debbie’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

  ‘But what we can do with, um, larger ladies, is this,’ the assistant pushed on tactlessly, as she grabbed the dress and looped the halterneck over Debbie’s head like an apron. The dress dangled uselessly in front of her, flapping about as she moved. ‘There,’ the woman said, with false brightness. ‘What do you think?’

  Mortified, Debbie glanced across at Julia. ‘Um… I’m not really…’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ Julia spoke up. ‘It’s impossible to get a sense of how the dress will fit just from hanging it around her neck.’

  ‘Well I don’t see what else we can do,’ the assistant replied tartly. ‘If she can’t fit in the gown, this is the best you’re going to get.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Debbie interjected hastily, not wanting Julia to get into an argument. ‘I’ll try and find something else.’

  ‘How about this one?’ the assistant suggested, pulling another dress from the rail. ‘It’s a similar style, but with straps instead of a halterneck, and it’s much bigger – size twelve.’

  ‘That won’t fit me either,’ Debbie swallowed, wondering when her dream day had turned into a complete nightmare. This woman could give Simon Cowell a lesson in humiliating put-downs.

  ‘Well it probably won’t fasten up but it will give you an idea. Why don’t you try it?’ she said forcefully, whipping back the changing room curtain and practically pushing Debbie inside. ‘Go on.’

  Debbie felt cornered. Reluctantly, she headed into the cubicle and unhooked the last dress from where it still hung around her neck. The sales assistant followed her inside, roughly unlacing the dress Debbie was currently wearing and manhandling her out of it. Debbie’s face burned with humiliation as she stood there in her bra and knickers, all too aware of the fact that her thighs were dimpled, her breasts enormous, and her skin strangely mottled in the unflattering changing room light. She couldn’t help but wonder what the assistant thought of her, certain she must be judging every inch of Debbie’s overweight, imperfect body.

  Neither of them spoke as the woman wrestled her into the size twelve dress. It was clearly far too small; the tiny cups barely covered Debbie’s nipples, whilst the back was wide open, exposing her skin to the cold air.

  ‘Go and show your friend then.’

  The remark was supposed to be encouraging, but to Debbie it sounded almost menacing. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back the curtain and stepped into the showroom. Julia took one look at Debbie’s face and saw instantly that she felt thoroughly miserable in the ill-fitting gown.

  ‘This is stupid!’ Julia burst out. ‘Don’t you have any dresses in other sizes? You know, for anyone who’s not a model?’

  ‘We can only stock a small range of samples,’ the assistant replied patronisingly. ‘And the majority of brides-to-be who visit True Bridal are between a size eight and a size twelve. I’m aware that may seem small to you, but most women try to slim down before their wedding.’

  ‘I am slimming down,’ Debbie insisted, unable to hide the frustration in her voice. ‘There’s still almost six months to go before I get married, and I’m going to be much smaller.’

  ‘In our experience, the size a bride is when she comes in for her first consultation is more or less the size she actually is on her wedding day. Despite their best intentions, very few women drop more than six or seven pounds in the lead up to the big day, so there’s a downward shift of no more than one dress size. We tend to find,’ the assistant smiled coldly, ‘that if a woman wanted to lose weight, she would have already done so.’

  ‘She’s already lost twenty pounds,’ Julia retorted, immediately coming to Debbie’s defence. ‘I’d say that’s pretty good willpower, wouldn’t you? And if she’s done that in three months, imagine what she can do in another six.’

  The assistant arched an eyebrow. ‘Of course, it’s your choice, but we don’t recommend ordering a dress more than one – or two at the absolute maximum – sizes smaller than you are currently. It’s simply not realistic.’

  The other customers were turning round to look, hearing raised voices and wondering what the commotion was. Debbie could see them staring at her and felt horribly self-conscious, crossing her arms over her chest and wishing that her body wasn’t so exposed. She could feel the dress digging into her skin, and knew that her back must be bulging out for everyone to see, rolls of fat rippling beneath her bra.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Julia smiled sweetly at the assistant. ‘We won’t be ordering anything from here anyway so you won’t have to worry. Debbie, shall we leave?’

  With a mutinous glare at the assistant, Debbie marched back into the changing room and gratefully tore off the too-small dress. It felt blissful to slide back into her stretchy jeans and oversized jumper, and she emerged with the first genuine smile Julia had seen since they’d entered the shop.

  They left with their heads held high, the freezing January wind hitting them as they stepped onto the pavement.

  ‘What a bitch!’ Julia exclaimed, unable to hold back any longer, and furious on Debbie’s behalf. ‘I’m so sorry for taking you there, Debs.’ True Bridal was relatively new, and had opened while Julia was on maternity leave.

  ‘Don’t be silly, it’s not your fault. I wanted to try it. I guess you can’t take any of your other clients there now.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to take anyone there. I like my clients to have an enjoyable experience when they’re shopping for their wedding dress. Honestly, women like that shouldn’t be allowed near brides,’ Julia ranted. ‘It’s supposed to be one of the highlights of your entire life, and it’s like she deliberately wanted to spoil the whole thing.’

  ‘She was nice to the other girl,’ Debbie pointed out, thinking how the assistant had kowtowed to the slim blonde in the one-shoulder dress.

  ‘Hmm…’ Julia muttered darkly.

  The two women walked on, coming out of the narrow lanes around Pottergate and emerging opposite the medieval splendour of the Guildhall.

  ‘So where do you want to go next?’ Julia wondered. ‘We’ve got a while before our appointment at Millie’s Bridal, but they might be able to squeeze us in early.’

  Debbie shrugged despondently. ‘I don’t mind.’

  Julia watched her for a moment; her head was bowed as she trudged along, no sign of her usual exuberance.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Julia asked worriedly. ‘Don’t let that silly cow upset you.’

  Thoughts were swirling in Debbie’s head, all of her demons and self-confidence issues coming to the fore. ‘She’s right though, isn’t she?’

  ‘What? No, she’s not. She’s prejudiced and stupid.’

  Debbie smiled weakly. ‘It’s sweet of you, Jules, but I’m just fooling myself. I’m never going to be thin, am I? I need to accept it.’

  ‘What are you talking about? You’ve done brilliantly! You’ve already lost twenty pounds, and you look amazing. Even on your face, I can see the way your cheekbones and jaw line are really well defined, and—’

  ‘D’you know what Stevie said to me the other week?’ Debbie interrupted. ‘He said, “You’ll always be a big girl, Debs.” We had a massive row at the time but, thinking about it now, he was right.’

  ‘No, he wasn’t.’ Julia sounded exasperated.

  ‘For the last three days I’ve lived on nothing but green juice and cabbage soup, because I knew I had this appointment today. And when I got on the scale this morning, I’d put on two pounds. How is that fair? I didn’t even have any chocolate cake at work for Angela’s birthday, and it made absolutely no difference.’

  ‘You had a bad week, it happens. Maybe it was hormones or something. The most important thing is that you’re still losing weight overall.’

  But Debbie wasn’t listening. ‘Seriously, what’s the bloody point? I’m bad-tempered and miserable and st
arving and I still look like a fat cow. I mean—’ She broke off suddenly, seeming transfixed by something in the distance. When she finally spoke, her voice was all distant and dreamy. ‘How much time did you say we had before the appointment at Millie’s?’

  ‘About an hour. Why?’ Julia frowned, following Debbie’s gaze to a branch of Little Italy pizzeria. ‘Oh, no. No, I’m not letting you, Debs. Debbie!’ she screeched, as her friend suddenly made a break for it, bolting across the road with an ecstatic expression on her face. She was already seated at a table and perusing the menu by the time Julia caught up with her.

  ‘No, Debbie, don’t do it! You’ve been doing so well, this will spoil everything.’

  ‘Having the occasional break from your diet is a great morale booster,’ Debbie parroted, without looking up from the list of starters. ‘Humans need fat in their diet, as well as protein and carbs.’

  ‘But—’

  Before Julia could reply, a smartly dressed waiter appeared with a smile.

  ‘Ladies, can I help you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Debbie said immediately, her eyes glittering brightly. She appeared to have been seized by some kind of mania. ‘I’ll have the dough balls to start, followed by the biggest pizza you have, with everything on it, and a side of cheesy garlic bread. And for dessert, I’ll have the chocolate fudge cake.’

  ‘Will that be with cream, or ice cream, madam?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Excellent choice. And to drink…?’

  ‘An enormous glass of full-fat Coke.’ Debbie handed the menu back to the waiter with a beaming smile which he returned, not seeming in the least bit fazed.

  ‘And for you, madam?’ He turned to Julia.

  Julia bit her lip, looking down at the menu then back across at her friend. Debbie was still grinning widely in anticipation of the feast that was to come, and Julia hesitated, unsure what to do.

  ‘Oh, sod it!’ She threw her hands up in defeat, then burst out laughing. ‘I’ll have bruschetta to start, followed by the calzone, and pencil me in for a tiramisu if I’ve got room,’ she giggled. ‘Well, if you can’t beat them, join them. Right?’

  ‘Right,’ Debbie agreed happily, as she reached for a breadstick.

  17

  ‘Why does a woman work ten years to change a man, then complain he’s not the man she married?’ – Barbra Streisand

  ‘No, Kelly, I’ve said you can’t do it.’

  ‘But whhhhyy, Mum?’ Kelly’s whining made her sound more like a three-year-old than a thirteen-year-old.

  ‘We’ve been through this. There are all kinds of dangerous things – dangerous people – out there on the internet, and I don’t want you taking that kind of risk.’

  ‘But I’m on the internet every day, Mum. You’re happy enough to let me research a school project on there, so why can’t I start my own blog?’

  ‘Kelly…’ Gill rubbed her hand tiredly across her eyes. They were in the kitchen, and Kelly had just got in from school; she was still wearing her uniform, with her shirt untucked and her skirt hitched up. There were smudges of kohl-pencil around her eyes, a classic sign of teenage rebellion – Gill was sure she hadn’t been wearing it when she’d left to catch the bus that morning.

  ‘It’s different, okay? Using the computer to search for information is a whole other matter to putting your entire life out there. It means anyone can just log on and read about what you’re up to.’

  ‘Duh! That’s, like, the whole point of a blog.’

  ‘Don’t get smart with me, Kelly. I’m not in the mood.’

  ‘Mum, I’m not stupid, okay? I’m not going to start putting topless pictures on there, or my address and phone number. I just think it’d be something fun and creative for me to do. Loads of my friends do it. Liana writes one about her dancing, and puts up pictures from the competitions she does, and photos of her trophies, and tons of people read it.’

  ‘Well good for Liana.’

  ‘You can even make a career out of it,’ Kelly wheedled. ‘Some people earn loads of money, and companies send them free stuff, like designer clothes and make-up samples.’

  ‘I know it seems innocent enough, but it’s my job to look after you, and I’m really not comfortable with it.’

  ‘I should have just done it without telling you,’ Kelly threatened. ‘Maybe I still will.’

  ‘Kelly,’ Gill finally snapped. ‘I said no, and that’s final.’

  ‘God, why do you have to ruin everything for me?’

  At that moment, the back door opened and Mike came in, home from work. He immediately picked up on the tense atmosphere, looking nervously from Gill to Kelly as he took in their angry expressions and furious body language. It was clear that some kind of stand-off had just been taking place.

  ‘All right?’ he asked casually, dropping his bag by the back door and coming over to give Gill a peck on the lips.

  Kelly looked away, making a revolted face.

  ‘What’s going on here then? What are we talking about?’

  ‘Kelly wants to start a blog,’ Gill explained, her tone making it clear exactly what she thought of the idea. ‘You know, give away every last detail of her private life on the internet so any old nutter can track her down, or random perverts start chatting to her online.’

  Kelly threw up her hands in exasperation. ‘It’s not going to be like that! You’re not listening to me.’

  ‘Just drop it, Kelly. How many times do I have to tell you you’re not doing it?’

  ‘Now hang on a minute, let’s not be too hasty,’ Mike interjected, as he took off his jacket and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair. Gill and Kelly’s heads snapped up, both looking at him in surprise.

  ‘A lot of the kids these days are into it, aren’t they? What’s the name of the girl I was reading about in the paper? She made a fortune from putting videos online just doing her hair and chatting about her day. Got a book deal from it and everything. What is it they call it? V Logging?’

  ‘Vlogging,’ Kelly corrected him sullenly. ‘It’s video blogging, and it’s exactly what I’m talking about. It wouldn’t all be recorded though – I’d be writing some posts too, so it’d help me with my English.’

  ‘Don’t you need lots of fancy equipment?’ Mike wondered doubtfully. ‘A microphone and a camera and all that malarkey?’

  Kelly shook her head vigorously. ‘No, I can do it all on my iPad, it’s really easy. I can even get a free hosting site, so it wouldn’t cost anything at all. Look,’ she carried on, encouraged by Mike’s reaction, as she picked up the iPad she’d left on the kitchen table and switched it to video mode. ‘Say something,’ she demanded, aiming it at Mike.

  ‘Um…’ Mike gave an awkward wave. ‘Hello, my name’s Mike.’

  ‘Lame, but never mind,’ Kelly muttered, as she quickly jabbed at the screen a handful of times, then turned it round to show him the finished article. She’d put a neon filter on the short video and played it on a loop, once at normal speed and then slowed right down. A dance track played in the background and, at the end, the word ‘Mike!’ was scribbled across the screen by an invisible hand. ‘All I’d need to do now is upload it,’ Kelly explained. ‘Easy.’

  ‘That’s amazing,’ Mike marvelled. ‘Gill, have you seen this?’

  He turned to look at her, but the expression on her face was as though she’d been sucking lemons.

  ‘That’s not the point, Mike,’ she said tartly. ‘The point is that she shouldn’t be putting everything online for any Tom, Dick or Harry to watch.’

  ‘Aw, where’s the harm, Gill?’ Mike shrugged. ‘I can’t see that it’s a big deal.’

  Gill’s jaw dropped. ‘You can’t see that it’s a…’

  She trailed off as she realised that Kelly was watching them, her eyes shining, a triumphant look on her face. She was obviously thrilled that Mike was taking her side – and that he and Gill were arguing.

  ‘You know what, we’ll discuss this later,’ Gill said, clearly st
ill fuming. She yanked open the fridge and began pulling out ingredients for their evening meal, slamming them down on the worktop. ‘Kelly, go upstairs and start your homework. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.’

  For once Kelly didn’t protest, still revelling in the upset she’d caused, as she turned on her heel and trotted smugly out of the room.

  Mike cleared his throat awkwardly, sensing that he was in trouble. Gill ignored him as she bustled around the kitchen, chopping carrots in a faintly terrifying manner.

  ‘Gill, I didn’t mean—’

  ‘I said later,’ Gill snapped, in a tone that left no room for disagreement.

  ‘Right,’ Mike nodded timidly, deciding to make himself scarce as he headed upstairs to shower.

  * * *

  Later that evening, Gill and Mike were lying in bed together, the bedside light still on as they settled down for the night. They were both feeling exhausted, as usual, after another hectic day of work and running around after five kids. The atmosphere between them had slowly returned to normal, but their earlier fight was still troubling Gill.

  ‘Mike, I don’t want to start an argument or anything, but I really don’t appreciate the way you took Kelly’s side tonight when we were talking about that blog business.’

  Mike frowned. ‘But I agree with her. I think it’d be a great thing for Kelly to do.’

  ‘Yes, but I’d already told her no, she wasn’t doing it. And then it completely undermines me when you waltz in and openly disagree. Now she’ll never shut up about it.’

  ‘I can’t win, can I?’ Mike was trying to keep his tone light, but Gill could tell that he was getting annoyed. ‘If I back you up, Kelly hates me, and then you tell me to make more of an effort with her. If I happen to agree with her, and say so, you want me to take your side regardless of what I actually think.’

  ‘It’s just…’ Gill paused, trying to find the right words. ‘I genuinely don’t think this blogging thing is a good idea. She’s only thirteen, and she wants to put her life out there for anyone to read about. You hear horror stories every day on the news. I mean, what about trolls? What about online grooming?’