“Olive, what about all those extra pounds?” Dim’s mother wouldn’t let it go. “In my opinion, I dont have any, especially since my future husband likes me just as I am. Not everyone has to be a waif or a reed,” Olive retorted, casting a mocking glance at Helen and Dims mother. The sheer cheek of it made Helen bristle.
“Mother! Did you buy the slimming tea? The chia seeds? Why did you put so much butter in my porridgedo you want me to gain weight? And Dim, you bought yeast bread again? Its terrible for you! Three glasses of water in the morning, or the weight wont budge Wheres my water?!” Such remarks had been the soundtrack of Dims childhood.
His mother and older sister were forever obsessed with their figures. Now, at thirty-eight, his sister had never married and resembled a gaunt, hollow-eyed horse. His mother, meanwhile, was as straight and thin as a knitting needle.
It had worn on him so much that he was always drawn to cheerful, hearty people. Hed long dreamed of a wife who was nothing like his mother or sister. And hed found her.
Her name was Olive. Even the sound of it was soft, pleasant, and rich, like a buttery pastry. No, Olive wasnt skinny. At five foot eight, she weighed nearly thirteen stone, but every ounce radiated health and happiness. High breasts, a narrow waist, womanly curves, and dimples in her round cheeksjust begging to be pinched. The moment Dim saw her, he was utterly smitten.
One evening, he drove his sister to the bank on an errand. She took a ticket and sat waiting while he paced the lobby. Then he heard ita silvery, bell-like laugh, quiet but infectious enough to make him smile. He followed the sound.
A young teller was chuckling with an elderly customer. Dim couldnt look awayher wavy hair, her bow-shaped lips, and yes, she was pleasantly plump, no denying it.
In the car, his sister droned on, but his mind was back at the bank with that girl.
“Dim, are you even listening?” Helen snapped.
“Of course,” he lied, scrambling to recall what shed been saying.
“I told him I dont eat fried meat, only boiled chicken breast,” she complained about her latest suitor. Dim nodded sympathetically, though privately he thought, *What a miserable existence.*
The next evening, he rushed back to the bank. She was still there. After closing, he fetched a bouquet of roses from his car and approached.
“Miss, do you need a husband? Or perhaps a son-in-law for your mother?” he blurted, thrusting the flowers at her.
His flustered expression must have been comical, because she burst out laughingbut took the roses.
“Oh, theyre gorgeous! The fragrance!” She buried her face in them, inhaling deeply, while he admired her.
From then on, they were inseparable. Sometimes you meet someone and *know*this is it. For Dim, Olive was that person. He proposed within a month, and she accepted. All that remained was introducing her to his parents.
Olives parents welcomed him with a feast, laughter, and warmth. Her mother, a statuesque beauty, kissed him on both cheeks, leaving him crimson. Her father clapped him on the back like an old friend and steered him to the kitchen.
“Best keep away from the womentheyll talk your ear off. But dont worry, Natalies a gentle soul. Thats why Ive loved her thirty years. And Olive? Shes a gem. Youd better treasure her, son.”
They spent the evening eating, laughing, and swapping stories. Later, Olives father played the guitar, and everyone sang along. Dim felt at home, as if hed known them forever.
Three days later, they visited Dims parents. Olive stopped at a bakery for handmade éclairs. At five sharp, they arrived.
Dims mother, Margaret, opened the door.
“Oh Hello, dears,” she stammered, gaping at Olive before remembering herself.
“Mum, we love you too. Shall we come in?” Dim nudged her gently inside.
“Of course, of course You must be Olive?” Margaret recovered enough to scrutinize her head to toe.
“Yes! Delighted to meet you.” Olive pressed a hand into Margarets limp one and swept past.
“Dad, Helen, Mumthis is Olive, my fiancée. Weve filed the paperwork, so the weddings soon. Olive, meet my family: my sister Helen, my mother Margaret, and my father Nigel.”
The announcement left them stunned. Silence settled, broken only by the clink of cutlery.
“Ah! Olive, welcome to the family. Is that a bottle? Perfect timing! And treatsthough those are for you ladies,” Nigel said cheerfully.
“Oh, no, we dont eat sweets, especially not at night,” Margaret said, pushing the box away with distaste.
“You dont, but we do! Lets see whats inside. Olive wouldnt bring anything bad, would you?” Nigel winked.
They opened the champagne, toasted, and sipped. The silence returned.
“Mum, I met Olives parents. Lovely peopleyoull like them,” Dim ventured.
“Olive, you mustnt worry. I know an excellent specialist who can help with your situation,” Margaret said suddenly.
“Situation?” Olive blinked.
“Well Olive, what about all those extra pounds? Surely thats a problem?”
“In my eyes, I dont have anyespecially since my future husband adores me. Not everyones meant to be a twig.” Olive smirked at Helen and Margaret. Helen flushed.
“Youre at least three stone overweight! Its unhealthy. And when you have childrengoodness, I dread to think!”
“When I have children, Ill be even lovelier, with a doting husband and a baby. Speaking ofHelen, are you married? A slim woman like you must have a handsome husband and at least a couple of children by now.” Olive took a triumphant bite of éclair.
Helen gulped, bristling, but Nigel cut in, refilling glasses and raising a toast.
“To the women of this familydifferent, but dearly loved!”
Two hours later, they left. Dim and Olive sighed in unison, then burst out laughing.
“Well. Didnt expect my future mother-in-law to call me plump.”
“Olive, youre gorgeous, and you know it. As for Mum and Helen Well, you cant choose family.”
The wedding was set for August 25th. At the ceremony, Olive shone in an elegant gown that flattered her curves. Dim couldnt take his eyes off her. Natalie, radiant in her own right, drew admiring glancesquite the contrast to Margaret, swathed in a severe dress, with Helen as her spitting image.
The newlyweds danced their first dance, lost in each other. The guests watched, enchanteduntil Margarets voice cut through.
“Really The bride could stand to lose a few. That dress doesnt helpit makes her look even bigger.”
The words hung in the air. Margaret clearly wished she could unsay them, but it was too late.
“Funny, many men dont fancy skeletons. They prefer real womenlike your son does. And you, madam, ought to mind your tongue. Im usually easygoing, but when it comes to my daughter” Natalie advanced, her formidable bust driving Margaret back against the wall.
The women locked eyesMargaret fearful, Natalie furiousuntil Olives father swooped in.
“Ladies! Getting along splendidly, I see. But I must steal my wife for a dance. Margaret, dear, youll excuse us.”
He whisked Natalie onto the floor, and the celebration carried onmusic, laughter, and dancing.
Heres hoping the newlyweds live long, love well, and prosper.
After all, thats what matters, isnt it?
