Fashionably Yours. Swati Sharma
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Название: Fashionably Yours
Автор: Swati Sharma
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9789351066811
isbn:
“Ummmm … I’ll have the skinny salad and the vegetable loaf,” I beamed without even looking at the menu.
I remembered their menu, everything from Banoffee Pie to Rainbow Jar, Red Velvet Tart to French Crepes and Caramel Shortbread to Cupcake Shake. I came across this cosy, little and absolutely beautiful place by accident on a very rainy day last monsoon season and while it poured outside, I sat inside in the comforting buttery aroma and had the most scrumptious meal of my life. But today I had no courage to even think about letting the gooey, sugary goodness passing through my lips. A moment on the lips, forever on the hips. In the situation like mine I couldn’t let it happen, not any more.
“No cupcakes?” Anu looked at me through considerably narrowed eyes.
“Err … I guess I’ll stick to the salad and bread. Healthy and tasty,” I wanted to sound excited and confident about my choice of food, but instead I felt nervous under her steely gaze.
“All right,” she nodded slowly before placing the order. Salad and bread for me, cronut and hot chocolate for her. Few minutes later when our order arrived, I started picking through my salad. I manged to get couple of forkfuls down my throat and was actually started to enjoy it. Then I saw the soft, fluffy, creamy custard oozing from the cronut Anu was digging into.
“I can’t do it,” I declared.
“What you can’t do?” Anu looked at me inquisitively.
“All this dieting malarkey, I can’t do it. I don’t care how healthy this salad is, I want that,” I pointed at her plate where the sweet, thick custard was running everywhere.
“Maya,” she looked at me sympathetically. “Who asked you to go on the stupid diet? If getting one dress size up is such a big deal for you then join a gym but don’t deprive yourself of the things you love,” she placed her hand on mine. “And to be honest, you look beautiful with curves in all the right places, no matter what dress size you are,” she said in a very reassuring manner but I knew she was just being nice.
Agreed, I had curves in all the right places but lately those curves had started to resemble dangerously bandy roads.
“You’re probably right. I don’t have to stop eating anything, I just have to figure out the way to get rid of the calories that come with it,” I said excitedly.
A couple of hours later when Anu dropped me off in front on my apartment building, instead of heading to my flat and vanishing under the sheets, I decided to sign up at the gym which was down the road. To be honest I wanted to do it before I could change my mind.
June 4
Today I was supposed to be up and ready by six-thirty for my first ever spinning class but when my alarm rang to life at six a.m. sharp, I failed spectacularly to haul myself out of bed.
Filled with remorse, guilt and anger on my failure, I walked into the smallest elevator of the world and squeezed myself between the four people who definitely belonged to the sales department. They dismounted on the first floor, into the same direction with a practiced, synchronized walk. Bizarre.
As soon as I found myself alone, I took a deep sigh because now I could adjust my knickers which were two sizes too small for me but were the only sexy knickers I possessed. The people who tell you to eat chocolate when you are sad or angry are not always right. Try lacy knickers in the right size and you would feel equally comforted and satisfied. Now, I didn’t buy two-sizes-too-small knickers to dupe myself into thinking that I was petite. I got them for free when they were sent to Style for promotions by a new lingerie company and everyone got to pick. By the time I came to know about it and had raced to the conference room to get mine, there were only two sizes left: S or L. I picked S.
Lifting my kaftan dress up and clutching its hem between my chin and chest, I was busy adjusting its digging elastic. Ah! What a relief! Suddenly I felt the lift going down instead of up where it should have been going. Before I could do anything about it the doors opened on the ground floor, revealing the very awful sight of my cellulite-covered thighs. I wanted to do die right there.
“Oh fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
A tall, lean, dishevelled and utterly gorgeous man with a sharp look was standing there, right in front of me, absorbing the horrible view of my horrible knickers and absolutely horrendous thighs. I was frozen in my spot. I had never seen a guy like him in flesh and blood ever before in my life. His angular jaw and perfectly sculpted face set my heart racing. I couldn’t bring myself to look away from his utterly gorgeous face
“Are you all right?” walking inside the lift, he asked in an impossibly gentlemanly manner. His voice gave me goose bumps, everywhere. It felt like the music to my ears. I looked at him shamelessly.
“Yes,” I finally found my voice and my senses and quickly averted my gaze. Pulling the dress down to cover my generous curves I mumbled, “Sorry about that,” and looked at the lift floor, willed it to split in two and swallow me whole. For the first time in my life I had met a guy like him and that too in this horrible state. Why did I have cellulite thighs
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