Read Online The Lighter Side of Large by Becky Siame - Free Book Online
Authors: Becky Siame
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retrieve some.
“Let me help,” Jae says, already crouching down to pick them up.
But it’s a hopeless cause. No matter how many we put back, more tumble down. A store employee comes to the rescue.
“No worries, I’ll take care of it,” he says. I can almost hear his thoughts continue: just get your big arse outta here before you cause even more damage. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur. My face is burning from embarrassment, not just because other customers are watching and sniggering, but because I look bad in front of Jae. My self-esteem crumbles as fast as the pyramid did and I think of nothing beyond escaping this citrus apocalypse as fast as I can.
Without a word, I navigate my cart around the oranges and race for the bakery. In the sanctuary of bread and buns I nurse my wounded pride. So typical, I moan. My fat butt literally gets in the way of me being socially acceptable.
I grab a loaf of bread and try to remember what else I need. Cereal, biscuits - and tampons. That’s what slipped my mind. The biscuit aisle is empty, which saves me the trouble of squeezing past other customers and garnering unspoken judgments: she shouldn’t eat biscuits; she doesn’t need more sweets; yeah, like the low-cal ones will help her.
The cereal aisle is two rows over. I push past the next aisle and see Jae - and speed up before he sees me. One row over, the cereal aisle is crowded with four other carts. I decide to go down it anyway when Jae appears at the opposite end. We catch each other’s eye. I panic and whirl my cart around and take off. Abe and Fi can eat toast for breakfast.
It’s a relief to get to the feminine products aisle. Now I just have to get through the check-out line and I’m home free.
“Hey there,” says a familiar deep voice. My stomach sinks right down to my toes: so much for avoiding him and the embarrassment of what just went down. I look up to find Jae standing in front of my cart.
“Hey again,” I reply meekly. I hold a super-sized box of tampons and set it in the cart. What is he doing here? Men aren’t supposed to be on this aisle. Isn’t there some kind of unspoken social etiquette rule about this? Women don’t invade the man cave; men don’t invade the tampon aisle. Well, except for the reluctant blokes whose significant others ask them to pick up a few items on their way home from work. I feel my face turning red. If a gal isn’t safe here, where can she escape to?
“Bella,” Jae says - he remembered my name! - “I don’t usually stalk people through supermarkets, especially ones who can have me locked up for indecent groping, but I was wondering if you want to go skydiving sometime.”
“Skydiving?” I blurt.
Jae nods. “Or boating or four-wheeling or something. I need feedback on the services my new company provides and thought maybe I could use you as a guinea pig - if you don’t mind being used for non-laboratorial experimental purposes, that is. You don’t have to jump out of a plane on my account, but I would like a woman’s opinion on other recreational activities.”
The double entendre of his last words dawns on us at the same time. Jae turns beet red. “I apologise, I didn’t mean for that to sound like that.”
I hold onto my cart, I’m laughing so hard. “I’d love to - hee-hee-hee - do some experi-ha-ha-mental recreational activities–hee-hees with you.” Jae’s blush is replaced by a grin and soon he is laughing hard. “Sounds like a lot of fun,” I finally say.
Jae’s face brightens and I melt again. “Great. Here’s my number.” He hands me a slip of paper. “Give me a call when you have some time. We’ll make a whole day of it. I really appreciate this. You’d be doing me a big favour.”
I try, I honestly try, to not laugh. It doesn’t work. He catches it, too, and we snigger and snort. “I’m not in the habit of doing favours for strange men, but I’ll make an exception this time.” How can I not make an exception? A cute
“Let me help,” Jae says, already crouching down to pick them up.
But it’s a hopeless cause. No matter how many we put back, more tumble down. A store employee comes to the rescue.
“No worries, I’ll take care of it,” he says. I can almost hear his thoughts continue: just get your big arse outta here before you cause even more damage. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur. My face is burning from embarrassment, not just because other customers are watching and sniggering, but because I look bad in front of Jae. My self-esteem crumbles as fast as the pyramid did and I think of nothing beyond escaping this citrus apocalypse as fast as I can.
Without a word, I navigate my cart around the oranges and race for the bakery. In the sanctuary of bread and buns I nurse my wounded pride. So typical, I moan. My fat butt literally gets in the way of me being socially acceptable.
I grab a loaf of bread and try to remember what else I need. Cereal, biscuits - and tampons. That’s what slipped my mind. The biscuit aisle is empty, which saves me the trouble of squeezing past other customers and garnering unspoken judgments: she shouldn’t eat biscuits; she doesn’t need more sweets; yeah, like the low-cal ones will help her.
The cereal aisle is two rows over. I push past the next aisle and see Jae - and speed up before he sees me. One row over, the cereal aisle is crowded with four other carts. I decide to go down it anyway when Jae appears at the opposite end. We catch each other’s eye. I panic and whirl my cart around and take off. Abe and Fi can eat toast for breakfast.
It’s a relief to get to the feminine products aisle. Now I just have to get through the check-out line and I’m home free.
“Hey there,” says a familiar deep voice. My stomach sinks right down to my toes: so much for avoiding him and the embarrassment of what just went down. I look up to find Jae standing in front of my cart.
“Hey again,” I reply meekly. I hold a super-sized box of tampons and set it in the cart. What is he doing here? Men aren’t supposed to be on this aisle. Isn’t there some kind of unspoken social etiquette rule about this? Women don’t invade the man cave; men don’t invade the tampon aisle. Well, except for the reluctant blokes whose significant others ask them to pick up a few items on their way home from work. I feel my face turning red. If a gal isn’t safe here, where can she escape to?
“Bella,” Jae says - he remembered my name! - “I don’t usually stalk people through supermarkets, especially ones who can have me locked up for indecent groping, but I was wondering if you want to go skydiving sometime.”
“Skydiving?” I blurt.
Jae nods. “Or boating or four-wheeling or something. I need feedback on the services my new company provides and thought maybe I could use you as a guinea pig - if you don’t mind being used for non-laboratorial experimental purposes, that is. You don’t have to jump out of a plane on my account, but I would like a woman’s opinion on other recreational activities.”
The double entendre of his last words dawns on us at the same time. Jae turns beet red. “I apologise, I didn’t mean for that to sound like that.”
I hold onto my cart, I’m laughing so hard. “I’d love to - hee-hee-hee - do some experi-ha-ha-mental recreational activities–hee-hees with you.” Jae’s blush is replaced by a grin and soon he is laughing hard. “Sounds like a lot of fun,” I finally say.
Jae’s face brightens and I melt again. “Great. Here’s my number.” He hands me a slip of paper. “Give me a call when you have some time. We’ll make a whole day of it. I really appreciate this. You’d be doing me a big favour.”
I try, I honestly try, to not laugh. It doesn’t work. He catches it, too, and we snigger and snort. “I’m not in the habit of doing favours for strange men, but I’ll make an exception this time.” How can I not make an exception? A cute
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