Читать книгу The Morning After the Wedding Before - Laura Ziepe - Страница 9

Emma couldn’t believe this was the week she was getting married. She was actually going to be Charlie’s wife. She still felt far too young to be doing something so grown up, despite being thirty-three. It was strange how her body just kept getting older, even though her brain still didn’t feel any different from when she was twenty-one. It was scary and she really wished that time would just slow down.

It had been Emma’s decision to marry in Vegas and as she glanced out of her balcony at the lively strip and the vibrant colours from the hotels, she felt it was the right choice. There was so much to do and see and she knew that all her guests were going to have fun. Everyone had made such a big effort to get all the way there; it was important to Emma that they enjoyed it. It was bright and sunny too, with temperatures in the high thirties; there definitely wasn’t going to be any worry about it raining on her wedding day. Despite being so hot outside, it was never far to escape the heat and cool down in the air-conditioned hotels; it went from one extreme to another.

Emma had never wanted a huge white wedding. She hardly spoke to her parents who had retired and moved to Gran Canaria. She wasn’t particularly surprised when her mother told her on the phone there was no way they could travel all that way due to her father’s arthritis, even for their only daughter. As soon as Emma had got herself a job and been able to afford to rent an apartment, it had seemed like they couldn’t wait to get away and move abroad.

‘The sun will do your father’s joints the world of good,’ Emma recalled her mother saying. ‘You can come visit whenever you want.’

Emma would only see them if she made the effort though; her parents hadn’t once been back to the UK since they moved and Emma couldn’t deny that it hurt. How could they care so little about their only child?

Emma didn’t have a large family that wanted to see her get married. Not that she would have wanted anything fancy anyway. Despite what people thought of her due to her career posting pictures of herself, she actually hated all the attention. When she went to university, she had purposely picked courses where she wouldn’t have to do presentations; the thought of everyone staring at her was enough to make her palms go clammy and her stomach knot with nerves. A quick, low-key wedding was much more her style. Less pressure. She’d only been with Charlie for two years and hadn’t wanted the hassle of planning her big day for months and months on end. Truth be told, the plan was to just get the wedding over with and start trying for a baby. All Emma really longed for was a family of her own. It was strange – she always thought she’d be married with a few children by now. She wasn’t so bothered about the marriage part, but not having children was unthinkable for Emma. Emma adored children and imagined there was no way in the world she would ever leave them and move country, even when they had grown up. Her own mother had left it late in life, having a baby at forty-three, having had a successful career as a solicitor. Her parents were always so serious and strict. Holidays were no fun, she had nobody to swap clothes with and she could never join in when her friends complained about being bossed around by their elder siblings. She would have loved to have been bossed around. She wouldn’t have cared if her sister took her shoes and never gave them back. It would have beat being alone all the time.

Emma wanted to have at least two children and as much as she hated to say it, she did worry slightly that she might have issues getting pregnant if she left it any later. A woman’s fertility was supposed to halve by thirty-five, and that was only a couple of years away. Her friend, Kirsty, had recently had to go through IVF, the reason she wasn’t able to make the wedding, and Emma’s cousin’s wife, Lisa, had also just announced she’d had a second failed round of fertility treatment; it seemed to be coming more and more common for women to get struggle to pregnant. She really hoped it would happen easily for her, although she’d already decided that if it didn’t, she’d love to adopt. There was nothing wrong with it, but she really didn’t want to be a first-time mother in her forties like her mother. She’d always wanted to be a fun, energetic mother. She imagined going cycling in the park with her children. She didn’t want to be one of those mothers who didn’t understand the latest app her children were using. She didn’t want her kids to snigger when she asked them how to do something online. Emma wanted to be young enough to still be a fairly cool parent.

Emma applied some lip gloss and slipped on a sparkly, strappy silver dress. She ran her fingers across the textured fabric of the dress, which moulded perfectly to her slender figure. She was down to a size eight now. If someone had told her three years ago when she was struggling to get into a size eighteen she would be buying a size eight wedding dress, she would have laughed at them. She wasn’t one of those women who pretended she was were happier being larger; she would always have preferred to be slimmer, but the truth was, Emma had just been happy enjoying life and her weight crept up over the years. She loved food. She adored all things bad for her, laden with calories and sugar, and often found herself polishing off a bottle of wine or two after work several times a week. If she wanted to drink a litre bottle of coke, if that was what she’d fancied, she didn’t think twice about it. A couple of chocolate doughnuts after lunch? No problem. She hadn’t been hurting anyone, had she? She couldn’t deny that she’d had low self-esteem and the problem was, when she felt down about herself, she ate to make herself feel better. It had been a vicious cycle. She certainly hadn’t loved her wobbly thighs and flabby tummy, but she always managed to cover herself in loose black trousers for work (she had worked for an accountancy firm in London) and she’d always felt that if she just ignored her size, then it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t as though she had trouble dating; men often said what a lovely face she had, but looking back she realized they rarely mentioned her body. One day, Emma’s trouser button had popped off at work and she had to ask for a safety pin. As she saw her colleague’s Sue’s pitying glance as she handed one over, something came over her. Emma had had enough. She was fed up of constantly being out of breath just walking up the stairs at work. She suddenly felt embarrassed by the fact she seemed to sweat when she’d so much as lifted a finger. She wanted to feel confident in her skin. She went home that night and did a bit of research after Sue insisted she try a weight-loss group that she’d heard about.

‘Barbara Seeley lost three stone on it,’ she’d told her enthusiastically. Emma was also keen to lose a bit of weight for health reasons. You couldn’t listen to the radio or sit in a waiting room without the risks constantly being shoved in your face. Emma didn’t want diabetes, high blood pressure or a stroke. ‘I think it’s a great idea to try it. They do meetings,’ Sue had encouraged. ‘I could lose a bit too, why don’t we try it together?’

Emma had gasped when their scales revealed she was thirteen stone three pounds.

It had taken two years to lose five stone with the help of her weight-loss group and Emma was proud of herself. Everyone was. She was no longer bigger than the women she walked past in the street. She was no longer embarrassed to be seen treating herself to a cake. Losing weight had been the start of a new career, not that she’d known that at the time. After her first month at the weight-loss group, Emma had lost ten pounds and was spurred on further when her name was called out as being achiever of the month. She’d felt a sense of satisfaction. Then after several months she stopped losing as much weight and couldn’t hide her frustration when she’d been eating so well. That was when a red-haired lady, Paula, who also attended the group, had pulled her to one side. Emma had noticed her earlier on, as she was probably the slimmest woman in the group and she’d found herself wondering whether Paula really needed to be there.

‘You’re still going in the right direction, don’t be disheartened,’ she’d beamed encouragingly. ‘Not to put a downer on things, but it does get harder to lose as much weight as when you first started, the longer you diet,’ Paula told her sagely. ‘If you want to really change shape and drop even more dress sizes, join a gym. The gym I go to has a special offer on at the moment. Here, let me give you the number if you’re interested. I have a personal trainer, his name’s Charlie. He’s fantastic.’

Emma hadn’t been too sure about the gym at first. She had assumed it would be full of vain, muscular men looking in the mirrors as they lifted weights and petite women in tiny crop tops. She was more keen on continuing to focus on what she ate. It was all about eating a healthy balance; with her diet plan, she could still eat pretty much whatever she wanted to. Just in moderation. A slice of cake instead of stuffing herself with the whole thing. A glass of juice instead of the entire carton. No food was off limits, but Emma was only allowed a certain amount of calories a day, so she had to choose wisely. She liked the fact she had control over what she ate. She actually enjoyed the discipline and it had suited her down to the ground. That was how she began blogging.

Emma had never really been happy working at the accountancy firm in London. It paid the bills, but she never really enjoyed the job. She always had that Sunday night dread, a twisted, uneasy feeling when she thought about going back to work the next day. Her job simply hadn’t fulfilled her; in fact, it had been nothing but boring and the only thing Emma had liked was socializing with her work colleagues; London nightlife had appealed to her immensely. Emma had always wanted to try something different, but she honestly didn’t know what she wanted to do. She never had. She hadn’t planned to be a lifestyle blogger and she never realized how much money she could make doing something so simple. After losing a stone, Emma had decided to take a before and after photo and post it on her Instagram page. She’d glammed herself up a bit for her after photo, and took the image on her father’s professional Canon camera. It was only a stone she’d lost, but the difference between her before and after looked amazing and she’d even braved it by wearing a bikini in each picture. She just looked so much happier and healthier in the second image and her body was starting to take shape. She remembered taking a deep breath before posting the image. She’d just been on the way to the gym for the first time, the one Suzie had recommended, when she did it, and she’d left her phone in her locker for an hour while she did a yoga class.

Emma had been confused at first when she saw a dozen notifications on her phone, wondering what it was all about. But as she clicked on her Instagram page, she was startled by the huge response she’d had to her post. She’d had one hundred and twenty likes, with so many people complimenting her.

Well done, Em! You look incredible!

Wow! Such great results.

Where is your bikini from Emma? Love the colour on you.

She’d even had a couple of private messages.

Hi Emma. Do you mind telling me what diet you’re doing? one had asked. Do you have any tips for me? another girl had asked.

The messages and huge response had given Emma a buzz of excitement she’d never felt before. She felt important somehow. Special even. She loved the fact that she might actually help people and even inspire them to go on a health kick too. A few days after she’d posted her weight-loss image, she decided to go back to the gym, this time to meet Charlie for a personal training session. The yoga class had given her the boost she needed. Emma had really enjoyed it; no-one was judging her like she thought they would, and everyone had seemed really friendly. There were women of all shapes and sizes there and she decided to overcome her fears and go for a one-on-one session. Emma had still been nervous, especially when she noticed how perfect Charlie looked. But he’d made her feel at ease right away. Charlie was a fantastic trainer and always made Emma feel comfortable, encouraging her to do that extra push-up or extra minute on the treadmill, pushing her just that little bit further than she thought she’d ever be able to go. In between breaks, they spoke about themselves. Charlie was interesting, and he seemed to want to get to know more about her too; he wasn’t someone who just spoke about himself all the time. Emma discovered he was trying to get into fitness modelling, but was working as a personal trainer until he got his break. Emma had started to look forward to their chats; Charlie asked her general things such as what she was doing the weekend, what she did for work etc. It was during one of these chats after having a few sessions with Charlie that she mentioned that she was posting blogs about her journey on Instagram.

‘Oh yeah?’ he asked interestedly, ‘what’s your account name? I’ll follow you too,’ he said.

Emma had felt a little flustered as she told him, knowing he’d be able to see her ‘before’ bikini image, but Charlie had been nothing but supportive and impressed. ‘Wow, you’ve got quite a lot of followers, you know,’ he’d said admirably. ‘You should keep going. Make sure you post something every day. People are clearly interested. Some people make a fortune from Instagram; it’s worth a shot, hey?’

‘It’s hard to believe people really want to follow me,’ Emma said modestly.

‘Why would they not?’ Charlie had asked her. ‘You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You’re an attractive girl, Emma, and you’re doing something that shows willpower and determination. I bet there’re loads of girls who follow you that would love to lose weight or just shape up a bit. They want to know how you did it and if you’re encouraging people to live a healthier lifestyle, then good for you. Don’t underestimate yourself.’

Emma had held his penetrating gaze. She felt a surge of encouragement. He was right – why wouldn’t people want to follow her? So she posted another image straight after their session to show people her continuing changing body. She gained extra followers immediately and she couldn’t wait to post something else. It became addictive. She began to take an interest in other successful Instagram accounts. She looked at what they were posting and the type of photos that seemed to attract more followers. Before Emma knew it, she was buying new clothes to suit her slimmer shape and taking selfies. Gradually, her Instagram stopped being just about her weight-loss journey and her everyday life. It had been Charlie’s idea to start tagging brands in her images to get their attention. Emma began to realize it wasn’t the only attention she was getting. Charlie had begun to message her privately on her Instagram account. At first, it was just about training. Helpful tips and some low-fat recipes he’d tried. But not long afterwards, his messages began to get a bit more flirtatious and before Emma knew it, she began to like Charlie as more than just a trainer. It was clear he felt the same too. She’d always thought that someone like him was out of her league.

‘I got a message from a gym-wear company asking if they could send me some outfits for free if I tag them on my page,’ she’d told Charlie on their first date at a restaurant. ‘It all feels so strange receiving things for free.’

‘That’s great,’ he’d said passionately. ‘I’ve got some great ideas how you can get other things too. The more followers you have, the easier it is and you seem to just continue to get more and more.’

‘Really?’ Emma didn’t have any idea where to even start.

‘Of course. I’ll help you if you want? I like you, Emma,’ he told her without hesitation, taking her hand across the table. ‘Ever since I met you, I’ve started to fall for you.’

Emma felt her face suffuse with colour and her heart thump wildly in her chest. ‘I feel the same,’ she replied timidly.

After that first date, they became a couple. Emma would join Charlie on his morning workouts and they would train together. They met after work and spent any free time they had as well as the weekends together. Usually they were training, cooking healthy meals or visiting new places, always taking images for Emma’s Instagram. Charlie created a new email account for her page, and he dealt with any queries when Emma was too busy.

Emma began to earn good money. The first thing she was asked to do was promote a clothing brand. She was given her own code, so her followers could receive a discount and Emma got a percentage every time someone made an order using her code. It had been the easiest way Emma had ever made money, and she decided to treat Charlie to their first holiday together to Bali. It was the least she could do seeing as he’d helped her achieve so much, both with her figure and career. Charlie had taken tons of photos: one of Emma pretending to meditate in front of Mount Agung, a volcano, one of her in front of a waterfall laughing, one of her with her back to the camera by an infinity pool. The responses continued to come flooding in.

Oh my God, I love your dress. Where is it from?

Can I ask what foundation you use?

Where did you get your bag? I need this!

Posting to her Instagram became a daily ritual. Even if Emma was only going for a coffee she’d get a photo, a fake image of her scanning the menu or a sultry pout looking into the distance as she shopped in London. Her inbox was always full of people wanting to know what camera she used or what her favourite highlighter was. It became so crazy that Charlie suggested Emma start an online blog which she linked to her Instagram page. Before she knew it, she had more and more freebies starting to come her way. She was constantly being sent free make-up, clothes and swimwear. So long as she posted about it, companies wanted her to use their products. Emma became obsessed with social media, gaining more followers and likes. Trips away started to become about taking photos, rather than actually enjoying herself and there had been times when Emma had to remind herself why she was doing it. When she became a bit too obsessed with it, Emma gave herself a few days off. Charlie was always enthusiastic to start with, taking selfies of the two of them and suggesting she posted a bit about their relationship to see if they could get any free weekend trips away. Charlie became a part of her account and her followers were always telling Emma how they were the perfect match. Their first freebie was a trip to Paris and Emma had to pinch herself over how well she was doing.

‘Hopefully this is the start of many more,’ Charlie had laughed, clinking champagne classes with her on the Eurostar as Emma filmed it for her latest story.

Despite what people must have thought when they looked on her Instagram page, Emma didn’t want to appear like she was showing off, but she knew that in order to get the brand deals she had to be able to influence others. People had to want to buy her latest outfit, watch or lipstick she was wearing; it was the way she made her money. So she had to make herself look the best she possibly could. Emma just hoped that people would see past her flawless newsfeed, and understand that beneath it all she was just a normal, ordinary girl. She hated people who thought too highly of themselves, which was why she liked to sometimes post before and after images to show how far she had come. Emma hadn’t always been someone to envy or desire; Emma had once been a size eighteen woman, who was very self-conscious and insecure. Despite now being a trim size eight, Emma certainly didn’t love herself and she was very aware of how superficial and shallow social media could be. It was a fabricated world; Emma knew this. She wasn’t completely ignorant.

Emma was brought back to the present when Charlie opened the bathroom door with a towel around his waist. Eyeing her up and down, he narrowed his eyes and his lips curved slightly upwards. ‘You look nice. Trying to impress someone?’

‘Haha, very funny. You’re the only person I need to impress, and you’ve agreed to marry me,’ Emma replied light-heartedly. ‘When you’re dressed do you mind…’

‘Taking a photo of you?’ Charlie interjected abruptly. ‘Of course.’

‘Thanks,’ Emma smiled gratefully. She knew how much her photos had begun to annoy him. What he found so interesting at first, he now found tedious and dull. He didn’t mind as much when it was of the two of them; Charlie seemed to love the limelight, especially if he was sent free things. But it was mainly Emma who was earning good money through her lifestyle blogging, not only through the advertising on her website, but she was now signed up to several apps where she advertised the outfits she was wearing. She was doing better than she ever dreamed of and she was getting fed up with reminding Charlie that she wasn’t just taking photos because she enjoyed it. It was all part of her job and one that he had insisted she did when they’d first met. A job that he used to find fascinating.

Emma stood on the balcony, looking out into the distance of the strip moments later; she knew the lighting was perfect and angled her head in a way she knew would look flattering on camera.

‘Done,’ Charlie said dryly, after a couple of clicks.

‘Do you mind just doing a few more please?’ Emma asked him politely. He knew as well as she did she usually needed lots of images to pick from. She sometimes took over a hundred, just to get that one special shot. Not that she was expecting him to take that many at that present moment. She knew she had no chance from the way he rolled his eyes.

He sighed loudly as he took some more. ‘You may have to stop all this once we’re married you know,’ he stated moodily. ‘I’m not certain I can put up with sharing you with the world forever.’

Emma ignored him and did her best pose.

Emma felt in good spirits an hour later when they met their friends at the bar in their hotel. She shot Holly a huge smile and hugged her as they met.

‘You look lovely. Is Kim too tired?’ she asked, noticing she wasn’t with her.

Holly nodded. ‘All dressed in her pyjamas and ready for bed. I’m sure it’s just for tonight. By tomorrow she’ll be out and enjoying herself, especially seeing as it’s your hen night,’ Holly said enthusiastically, looking around the bar. ‘Wow, this place looks nice and so do you, Em. I love that dress,’ she complimented her. ‘I still cannot believe how much weight you’ve lost – you look incredible!’

‘Thanks,’ Emma replied, feeling a flush of embarrassment yet again. She would never get used to compliments, no matter how hard she tried. ‘I was going to ask if you and Kim wanted to come to look at the flowers with me tomorrow?’

‘We’d love to. Just text us the time and place and we’ll be there.’

‘I will, and don’t worry, I won’t make it too early seeing as we’re drinking tonight. Speaking of which, shall we get some drinks? There’s more people out tonight for you to meet who weren’t at the pool today.’ Her eyes swivelled to Charlie’s cousin, Frankie, who was walking through a crowd of people staring at her. He shot her a smile, and Emma felt glad he was there as she wanted to talk to him about the car he was arranging for their wedding day. Frankie was so helpful like that; he was continuously offering Emma help to take the pressure off as Charlie hadn’t seemed to do much apart from arranging as much free stuff as possible. Emma was grateful for this, of course; it was fantastic that they were in such a lucky, privileged position to be gifted so many things, but it would have been nice if he was interested in helping organize some other things too. Frankie was always asking if there was anything he could do; Charlie was lucky to have such a thoughtful best man. ‘Hi,’ she mouthed to him, as Charlie slapped him hello on the back.

‘Let me get a photo of the bride and groom to be,’ Jason, one of Charlie’s friends, suggested over the music a few seconds later.

‘Here, take one on my camera,’ Emma offered, knowing her phone took great images, perfect for Instagram. She could do with updating her stories on Instagram; so many of her followers were keen to see her Vegas trip. They loved the photos she posted of her and Charlie. She was often seeing people write things under her images like #couplegoals. They really did think that she had the most perfect relationship.

Charlie was more than happy to oblige and he stood next to her, placing his hand protectively on her lower back and gripping her just a little too tightly as they smiled into the lens. ‘That dress is actually a bit low, don’t you think?’ he muttered quietly. ‘You look like you’re flashing to everyone.’

As usual, Emma pushed the comment aside and focused on the photo they were taking, knowing how happy she and Charlie would look together. Her followers would swoon, believing that Emma was really lucky in love and was about to marry her dream man.

That was the thing about social media: it was all one big, fat lie.