the entire time, besides the fact he said I was so fat that I probably hadn’t slept with anyone for so long that I should take what I can get because I was ‘aching’ for it.” Sands looks stunned. “Oh yeah, it’s true, he really said that, and then accused me of embarrassing him when I walked out of the restaurant.” I hold out my arm, which still carries a bruise from Wesley’s grip.
And then the tears come. I held onto them for days but now they flow. Sands hugs me until I can cry no more.
“Thanks,” I sniffle as she hands me a tissue. “God, I felt so terrible. I lied about my weight to get someone’s - anyone’s - attention and instead of looking at the real me, he calls me fat to my face. I hate men. I really do. They don’t care about your feelings or your mind. They just care about looks and once they get you in bed, it’s all over and they move onto the next woman.”
Sands hands me another tissue. “You know that’s not true. That’s just the excuse you tell yourself because you’re so scared of not being accepted. You hide behind your weight and sabotage any real relationships that potentially could be good for you by picking them to pieces. I’m not saying that’s the case with this date, but I watch you do it with others all the time.”
“Who?” I demand, affronted that Sands can’t just commiserate with me. She has to accuse me of wrongdoing.
“Tiresa, Mika, Mama Rose, me, Riyaan…” she rattles off.
I am astonished. “May I remind you that Tiresa and Mika sabotaged any relationship we had. Don’t you dare blame me for what happened.”
Sands throws up her hands. “I’m not blaming you. I’m pointing out your foibles so you can correct them and move on with your life. You need to learn to love yourself and accept that you are a fantastic person, worthy of good things and good relationships. It’s only then that you are going to see the good things in your life and not reject things and people because they’re not perfect. You use rejection as a defence mechanism. You reject before you can get rejected. Stop it and you’ll find yourself not getting rejected.”
“What does this have to do with my rotten date?” I yell.”Everything!” Sands yells back. “If you accept yourself then you won’t lie to others about your weight. If you don’t accept yourself, no one else will except for other rejects and freaks.”
I sigh. “Since when did you become a psychologist?”
Sands squeezes my shoulders. “I don’t need a degree in psychology to see what’s right in front of me. Bella, I don’t mean to make you upset or tell you how to run your life, and Lord knows I don’t have all my ducks in a row. I just…” she grasps for the right words, “-just don’t scare me like that again, okay? I was waiting for your call to tell me how the date went when Cat shows up at the gym and tells me she found you passed out with sleeping pills and you had been drinking. And then you don’t return my calls or emails. Do you know how scared I was? Promise me you won’t do that again?”
“I promise,” I say. “I promise, because I doubt I’ll ever go on a date again.”
•
Sands agrees to watch Abe and Fi while I run to the store for a few groceries. There aren’t many people in the store in the middle of the afternoon, yet I still duck my head as irrational fears fill my mind that someone from Yummy’s Restaurant or the street or the bus will recognise me.
I head for the fresh food section first. Grapes for Abe, oranges for Fi. I run through the rest of my mental grocery list, hardly looking at the giant pyramid of oranges as I grab them and shove them in a plastic bag.
Bread, cereal, biscuits, I think - and then jump. It’s not an orange I’m touching. It’s a hand.
I look up and into the green eyes of a man. A not
bad-looking man. In fact, he’s really rather cute with his dark wavy hair - short on the sides and longish on top - medium height and a
And then the tears come. I held onto them for days but now they flow. Sands hugs me until I can cry no more.
“Thanks,” I sniffle as she hands me a tissue. “God, I felt so terrible. I lied about my weight to get someone’s - anyone’s - attention and instead of looking at the real me, he calls me fat to my face. I hate men. I really do. They don’t care about your feelings or your mind. They just care about looks and once they get you in bed, it’s all over and they move onto the next woman.”
Sands hands me another tissue. “You know that’s not true. That’s just the excuse you tell yourself because you’re so scared of not being accepted. You hide behind your weight and sabotage any real relationships that potentially could be good for you by picking them to pieces. I’m not saying that’s the case with this date, but I watch you do it with others all the time.”
“Who?” I demand, affronted that Sands can’t just commiserate with me. She has to accuse me of wrongdoing.
“Tiresa, Mika, Mama Rose, me, Riyaan…” she rattles off.
I am astonished. “May I remind you that Tiresa and Mika sabotaged any relationship we had. Don’t you dare blame me for what happened.”
Sands throws up her hands. “I’m not blaming you. I’m pointing out your foibles so you can correct them and move on with your life. You need to learn to love yourself and accept that you are a fantastic person, worthy of good things and good relationships. It’s only then that you are going to see the good things in your life and not reject things and people because they’re not perfect. You use rejection as a defence mechanism. You reject before you can get rejected. Stop it and you’ll find yourself not getting rejected.”
“What does this have to do with my rotten date?” I yell.”Everything!” Sands yells back. “If you accept yourself then you won’t lie to others about your weight. If you don’t accept yourself, no one else will except for other rejects and freaks.”
I sigh. “Since when did you become a psychologist?”
Sands squeezes my shoulders. “I don’t need a degree in psychology to see what’s right in front of me. Bella, I don’t mean to make you upset or tell you how to run your life, and Lord knows I don’t have all my ducks in a row. I just…” she grasps for the right words, “-just don’t scare me like that again, okay? I was waiting for your call to tell me how the date went when Cat shows up at the gym and tells me she found you passed out with sleeping pills and you had been drinking. And then you don’t return my calls or emails. Do you know how scared I was? Promise me you won’t do that again?”
“I promise,” I say. “I promise, because I doubt I’ll ever go on a date again.”
•
Sands agrees to watch Abe and Fi while I run to the store for a few groceries. There aren’t many people in the store in the middle of the afternoon, yet I still duck my head as irrational fears fill my mind that someone from Yummy’s Restaurant or the street or the bus will recognise me.
I head for the fresh food section first. Grapes for Abe, oranges for Fi. I run through the rest of my mental grocery list, hardly looking at the giant pyramid of oranges as I grab them and shove them in a plastic bag.
Bread, cereal, biscuits, I think - and then jump. It’s not an orange I’m touching. It’s a hand.
I look up and into the green eyes of a man. A not
bad-looking man. In fact, he’s really rather cute with his dark wavy hair - short on the sides and longish on top - medium height and a
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