“Olivia, are those extra pounds of yours really not an issue?” Dim’s mother wouldn’t let it go. “In my opinion, I dont have any to spareespecially since my future husband happens to like them. Not everyone needs to be a waifish twig.” Olivia smirked, sweeping her gaze over Helen and Dims mother. The sheer audacity made Helen flush with anger.
“Mum! Did you buy that slimming tea? The chia seeds? Why on earth did you drown my porridge in butter? It’s nothing but empty calories! Dim, did you buy yeast bread again? Its dreadful for you! Three glasses of water in the morning, or the weight wont budgewheres my water?!” These were the sorts of tirades Dim had endured since childhood.
His mother and older sister were perpetually obsessed with their figures. Now thirty-eight, his sister had never married and resembled nothing so much as a gaunt, hollow-eyed mare. His mother, meanwhile, was all sharp angles, like a slender knitting needle.
It wore him down so thoroughly that he found himself drawn to cheerful, unapologetically hearty women. Hed always dreamed of a wife who was nothing like them. And hed found her.
Her name was Oliviasoft, warm, delicious, like a freshly baked scone. No, she wasnt overweight. But at five foot eight, she carried her eighty-five kilograms with radiant confidence.
High breasts, a narrow waist, lush curves, and dimples in her plump cheeks just begging to be pinchedDim was utterly enchanted the moment he laid eyes on her.
One evening, he dropped his sister off at the bank on an errand. She took a queue ticket and perched in a chair while he paced the lobby.
Then he heard ita silvery laugh, bright as a bell. Quiet but infectious, it tugged at his lips before he could stop himself. Compelled, he followed the sound.
The laughter belonged to a teller chatting with an elderly customer. Whatever hed said set her off again, and Dim couldnt look away.
Her wavy hair, her bow-shaped lips. And yes, she was *substantial*pleasantly, undeniably so.
In the car later, Helen prattled on about her latest doomed suitor. “I told him I *only* eat boiled chicken breast, nothing friedcan you believe the nerve?” Dim nodded absently, his thoughts still back in the bank.
“Dim, are you even listening?” she snapped.
“Of course, Helen,” he lied.
The next evening, he rushed back to the bank. Relief washed over him when he spotted her. After closing, he fetched a bouquet of roses from his car and marched straight to her.
“Excuse me. Would you happen to need a husband? Or a son-in-law for your mother?” he blurted, thrusting the flowers forward.
His expression must have been comically earnest, because she burst out laughingbut she took the roses.
“Oh, goodness! Theyre gorgeous!” She buried her face in them, inhaling deeply while he stared, smitten.
From then on, they were inseparable. Sometimes you meet someone and just *know*no more searching required. Thats how it was for Dim and Olivia. He proposed within a month. She said yes.
Now came the parents.
Olivias family welcomed him with a feast, laughter, and warmth. Her mothera statuesque beautykissed both his cheeks, flustering him utterly. Her father clapped him on the shoulder like an old friend and steered him toward the kitchen.
“Best stay clear of the women, or theyll talk your ear off. But dont worryNatalies a good sort. Thats why Ive loved her thirty years. And our Liv? Shes a diamond. Youd better treat her right, son.”
They spent hours at the table, eating, joking, singing along as her father played guitar. Dim felt at home in a way he never had before.
Three days later, they visited *his* family. Olivia stopped at a bakery for handmade eclairs. By five, they were at his parents door.
His mother, Margaret, gaped at Olivia as if shed seen a ghost.
“Mum, were not standing on the doorstep all night, are we?” Dim nudged her inside.
“Of course, darling. Come in, come in So *youre* Olivia?” She recovered just enough to scrutinize her head to toe.
“Yes! Lovely to meet you.” Olivia offered her hand breezily, leaving Margaret staring after her.
“Dad, Helen, Mumthis is Olivia, my fiancée. Weve filed the paperwork. Olivia, my family: Helen, Mum, and Dad, Nigel.”
The news of the wedding left them stunned. Silence fell, broken only by the clink of cutlery.
“Right! Olivia, welcome to the family!” Nigel jumped in, eyeing the eclairs. “And youve brought treats! Perfect timing.”
“Oh, we *dont* eat pastries,” Margaret said dismissively. “Especially not at night.”
“You might not, but we do!” Nigel snatched the box. “I trust Olivias taste.”
They settled uneasily. Chocolate, snacks, and sparkling wine appeared. They toasted. Silence crept back.
“Mum, Ive met Olivias parents. Youll like them,” Dim offered weakly. Olivia studied her glass. Helen stared. Nigel told a joke. Tension easedbriefly.
“Olivia, dear,” Margaret said suddenly, “I know an excellent specialist. She could help with your situation.”
“Situation?”
“Those extra pounds, darling. Surely its a concern?”
Olivia arched a brow. “I dont have any. And my future husband certainly doesnt mind. Not all of us aspire to look like underfed waifs.” She cast a pointed glance at Helen, who bristled.
“Olivia, youre *twenty kilos* overweight! And when you have children”
“When I do, Ill be even lovelier, with a husband and baby to adore me. Speaking ofHelen, are *you* married? Surely someone so slender has a dashing bloke and at least two children?” Olivia took a slow, triumphant bite of eclair.
Helen choked on her outrage, but Nigel cut in, raising his glass.
“To the women of this familydifferent, but dearly loved!”
Two hours later, they escaped. Outside, they exhaled in unisonthen burst out laughing.
“Well. Didnt expect *that* from my future mother-in-law,” Olivia said.
“Youre stunning, and you know it. As for Mum and Helen Well. Cant choose family.”
The wedding was set for August 25th. At the registry office, Olivia shimmered in her dress, every curve accentuated. Dim couldnt take his eyes off her. Her mother, Natalie, radiant in an elegant gown, drew nearly as many admiring glancesa stark contrast to Margaret, stiff in her severe sheath dress. Helen, her carbon copy, looked on sourly.
The newlyweds took the floor for their first dance. Lost in each other, they might as well have been alone.
“Honestly,” Margaret muttered, “the bride could stand to lose a few. That dress does her no favors.”
The words hung, lethal and unretractable.
“Funny,” Natalie said sweetly, hands on hips, “most men prefer *real* women. Your son certainly does. And *you*mind your tongue, or I might forget my manners when it comes to my daughter.” She advanced, her formidable bust driving Margaret back against the wall.
The standoff lasted seconds before Nigel swooped in. “Ladies! Already thick as thieves, I see. But Im stealing my wife for a danceyour turn, Margie!”
He whisked Natalie onto the floor. Music swelled. Glasses clinked. The celebration rolled on.
Heres hoping the couple lives long, loves hard, and thrives.
After all, thats what matters, isnt it?
