Fat Lass climbs a mountain

The adventures of Fat Lass continue in this thrilling episode

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Fat Lass climbs a mountain

Fat Lass started dating Husband when they were both seventeen. A year later Fat Lass was invited to Cornwall for a caravan holiday. She was shy and it was awkward. On the first night it rained so heavily that the caravan awning flooded, all of her clothes got muddy and her diary swelled to twice its size. Mother-in-law was concerned about what to feed Fat Lass, possibly having never met a vegetarian before. Hummus and dolmades were met with suspicion.
Husband’s family were very beachy and would pack up their gear early in the morning to drive to the beach and stay there all day. As a ginger who was sensitive to the sun, Fat Lass found this challenging and spent most of the time seeking out shade like some sort of pasty goblin. While rock-pooling, Husband pointed out a pretty crab and Fat Lass leaned over to look and promptly fell in a pool right up to her knees. Laughs were had.
They ventured to the Lizard, which Fat Lass found out was not a cute reptile but the exceptionally windy most southerly point of the UK. Fat Lass fancied herself a bit of a photographer and wandered around taking pretentious and macro photos of rocks and an anchor. Husband took a few but they were mostly photos of her boobs.
On another day, they went to St. Ives. They parked at the top of the very big hill and Fat Lass had a great time on the way down looking at all of the pretty sea-side houses and marvelling at the view. They wondered the coast, dropped into an art gallery and watched the boats floating around. They bought chips and ate them outside, while fending off the dastardly seagulls with their evil talons and their wicked beady eyes. Basically sky rats.
Then it was time to head back to the car. At the top of the hill.
Now, Fat Lass hasn’t always been Fat and at eighteen might even have been considered simply chunky but she has always been unfit. And
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she has always detested hills of any sort. St. Ives hill was not simply a hill, it was a mountain. This was an expedition.
Husband’s parents powered up the steep incline as if they didn’t have legs that were burning or breath that was laboured. Husband matched Fat Lass’ snail pace as she pretended to look at the sights around her to disguise the fact that she was, in fact, dying. Mother-in-law looked back to cajole them on as it had started to rain slightly. Fat Lass could not speak.
The end was not even in sight and Fat Lass was thoroughly miserable. Then her phone rang, giving her a perfect excuse to stop climbing for a while. It was Mum and Fat Lass’ exam results had just been delivered. Mum opened them and read, in a deliberately even voice, that Fat Lass had basically failed everything. She started to cry and it rained heavier. Mum offered her commiserations and her comfort but Fat Lass was now despondent. She hung up the phone with a sniffle.
And she still had half a mountain to climb.