“Olivia, but what about those extra pounds? Surely it’s a problem?”Dylan’s mother wouldn’t let it go. “In my opinion, theres nothing extra about me, especially since my future husband likes me just fine. Not everyone has to be a waifish twig,” Olivia shot back, casting a pointed glance at Helen and Dylans mum. The sheer cheek of it made Helen flush crimson.
“Mum! Did you buy that slimming tea? The chia seeds? Why did you put so much butter in my porridgedo you want me to gain weight?! Dylan, you bought bread with yeast again? Its terrible for you! Three glasses of water in the morning, or the scales wont budge… Wheres my water?!” These were the sorts of rants Dylan had heard since childhood.
His mother and older sister were perpetually obsessed with their figures. Now, at thirty-eight, Helen had never married and resembled a gaunt, hunched-over nag with permanently hungry eyes. His mother, meanwhile, couldve doubled as a knitting needlestraight, rigid, and just as sharp.
It drove him up the wall. Hed always gravitated towards cheerful, hearty people with proper appetites. And hed dreamed of a wife who was nothing like his mother or sister. Then he met her.
Her name was Olivia. Liv… Even her name was soft, sweet, and delicious, like a warm scone. No, she wasnt overweight. But at five foot eight, she carried her 13 stone with effortless grace.
And every ounce radiated health and happiness. Full curves, a tiny waist, dimpled cheeks you just wanted to pinchDylan was smitten the moment he saw her.
One evening, he drove Helen to the bank for an errand. She took a ticket and perched in a chair, while he wandered the lobby, waiting.
Then he heard ita silvery laugh, light and infectious. Before he knew it, he was following the sound.
There she was, a bank teller, chuckling at something an elderly customer had said. Dylan couldnt look awayher wavy hair, her bow-shaped lips, the way her figure filled out her blouse perfectly.
In the car, Helen droned on about her latest diet, but his mind was still back in the bank, with *her*.
“Dylan, are you even listening?” Helen snapped.
“Of course, Helen,” he lied, scrambling to recall what shed been moaning about.
“So I told him, I dont eat fried meatonly boiled chicken breast,” she huffed about her latest failed date. Dylan nodded sympathetically, clicking his tongue as if to say, *What a cad*.
The next evening, he raced back to the bank. Relief washed over him when he spotted her. As the doors closed, he grabbed a bouquet of roses from his car and marched right up.
“Excuse me, love. Fancy a husband? Or a son-in-law for your mum?” he blurted, thrusting the flowers at her.
His face mustve been a picture, because she burst out laughingbut she took the roses.
“Goodness, these are gorgeous! The scent!” She buried her nose in them, inhaling deeply, while he just stared, enchanted.
From then on, they were inseparable. Sometimes you meet someone, and *bang*you just know. Thats how it was for Dylan and Liv. He proposed within a month, and she said yes. Then came the parents.
Livs family welcomed him with a feast, laughter, and warmth. Her mother, a statuesque beauty, kissed both his cheeks, leaving him flustered. Her dad clapped him on the shoulder like an old mate and steered him to the kitchen.
“Best stay clear of the womentheyll talk your ear off. But dont worry, Natalies a sweetheart. Married her thirty years, and shes still the best thing that ever happened to me. And Liv? Absolute diamond. You look after her, son.”
They spent hours at the table, eating, laughing, swapping stories. Livs dad played guitar, everyone sang along, and Dylan felt like hed known them forever.
Three days later, they visited *his* parents. On the way, Liv popped into a bakery for handmade eclairs. At five sharp, they arrived.
Dylans mum, Margaret, opened the door.
“Oh! Hello, darlings” She froze, gaping at Liv.
“Mum, love you too. Shall we come in?” Dylan nudged her gently, and they stepped inside.
“Of course, dear. You must be Olivia?” Margaret recovered just enough to shamelessly size Liv up.
“Thats me! Lovely to meet you.” Liv pressed her hand into Margarets and breezed past, leaving his mother blinking.
“Dad, Helen, Mumthis is Liv, my fiancée. Weve applied for the license, weddings soon. Liv, meet my family: Helen, MumMargaretand Dad, Nigel.”
The engagement news left his family stunned. Silence fell, broken only by the clink of cutlery.
“Right! Olivia, welcome to the family. Is that a bottle? Perfect timing! And treatsbut those are for you girls,” Nigel said, lightening the mood.
“Oh no, we dont eat pastries, *especially* at night,” Margaret said, pushing the box away with a grimace.
*You* dont, but *we* do! Hand it overLiv wouldnt bring anything bad. Right, love?” Nigel winked.
They settled in, tension easing slightly. Chocolate, snacks, and bubbly appeared. Glasses clinked, sips were takenthen awkward silence again.
“Mum, I met Livs parents. Lovely peopleyoull like them,” Dylan offered. Liv examined her glass, Helen stared at Liv, and Nigel launched into a joke, loosening things up.
“Olivia, dont worryI know a brilliant specialist. Ill introduce you; shell sort your little… issue,” Margaret said suddenly.
“Issue? What issue?” Liv frowned.
“Well, those extra pounds, dear. Surely thats a problem?”
“Not to meor my future husband. Not everyones built like a lollipop.” Liv smirked, eyeing Helen and Margaret. Helen turned beetroot.
“Youre *two stone* overweight! Its unhealthy! And when you have children”
“When I do, Ill be even more beautiful, with my husband and baby. Speaking ofHelen, are *you* married? Im sure a slim woman like you has a dashing bloke and at least two kids?” Liv took a smug bite of eclair.
Helen gulped, puffing up like an offended pigeon, but Nigel cut in, refilling glasses.
“A toast! To the women of this familydifferent, but dearly loved!”
They left two hours later. Glancing at each other, they sighed in unisonthen burst out laughing.
“Well. Didnt expect my future mother-in-law to call me plump.”
“Liv, youre stunning, and you know it. As for Mum and Helen… bless their hearts. Cant choose family.”
The wedding was set for August 25th. Guests gathered at the registry office, then the reception. Liv shimmered in a gown that hugged her curves perfectly. Dylan couldnt take his eyes off her. Natalie, Livs mum, rivalled her daughter in elegance, drawing admiring glancesunlike Margaret, swathed in a stiff dress that made her look like a starved pencil. Helen was her spitting image, just younger.
The newlyweds danced their first dance, lost in each other. The guests watched, enchanted.
“Honestly, the bride could stand to lose a few. That dress doesnt helpit makes her look *huge*,” Margaret muttered.
Too late. The words were out.
“Plenty of men prefer *real* women over scarecrows. Your son, for one. And Margaretwatch your mouth. Im easygoing, but mess with my daughter, and I *will* lose my temper.” Natalie advanced, bosom-first, backing Margaret into a wall.
The women locked eyesMargaret terrified, Natalie furiousuntil Nigel swooped in.
“Ladies! Getting along famously, I see. But I must steal my wife. Natalie, dance with me!”
He whisked her into a waltz. Music swelled, laughter returned, and the wedding carried onjoyful, loud, and full of love.
Heres hoping the happy couple live long, laugh often, and prove that love, not waistlines, is what really matters.
After all, thats the point, isnt it?
