A low hum of music drifted from inside and a van marked Big Night Caterers was parked alongside the house. My guess was my lycra-clad neighbour was a bit miffed that she wasn’t invited.
“Ah, just a small family gathering,” I replied, edging away from the side fence in case she was planning on using her gardening tool as a weapon. “Well, I’d better get inside. Have a good night!”
I walked on before she could reply and pushed open the unlocked door. The kitchen and living room had been transformed from an average family home into something resembling a movie set. An animated movie set. Which didn’t really make sense because they didn’t have sets for animated movies, did they? It’s all done on computer screen, but anyway, it looked cartoonish. Brightly coloured paper flowers hung from the ceiling with glossy balloons, long streamers hanging from wall to wall and fancy multi-coloured lighting. Delicious savoury smells wafted past my nose as I looked towards the kitchen where four people in white chef outfits scurried about like elves, busying themselves with food preparation.
“Mum, you’re here! You better go and get ready, but first, let me take you on a quick tour of my creation.” Ryan, dressed in some ridiculous outfit, flourished an arm towards the living room. When he turned, I almost tripped on a tail-like thing attached to his back and dragging along the floor.
Was this the kind of clothing young people wore these days? How bizarre!
“Over here we have the Bliss Garden, where guests can sit down on one of the pods and enjoy a drink and relaxing conversation,” Ryan explained, as he pointed to the far corner where giant origami lotus flowers lay around the seating pods, similar to bar stools but lower and shaped like cylinders with a little round cushion on the top. Origami butterflies dangled from the roof and tiny lotuses floated in a birdbath.
Ryan led me outside, the summer night air sharpened by a hint of cool. “Out here on the patio is The Galaxy, an out-of-this-world space for fresh air and warm food.” A grey cushioned outdoor setting took up most of the space, above which hung tiny fairy lights that resembled stars. A colour-changing, heat-radiating lamp took centre stage, casting a sinewy rainbow on the tiled floor and holographic models of the planets floated in mid-air, powered by a small device attached to the wall.
“And the main area where guests will mingle,” he said as he led me back inside, “is the Party Hub, hence all the streamers and balloons and bright stuff everywhere.”
“Wow, you’ve done a really great job!” He had. Selena and Grant would love this!
“Well, I have to get as much practise as possible before I launch KC’s in-home decorating service next year,” he replied. “Plus, the photos I’ve taken here will be awesome for my final year university portfolio.”
Ah, so he did work for my company, or at least, would be once he finished his studies. A family business indeed. I looked at the time on my e-pad. “Well, I’d better go and get ready, huh?”
Ryan shook his head as though waking from a dream. “Oh yes, sorry I got carried away with my new world.” He pushed my lower back with his hands, walking me to the hallway near the kitchen. “Can’t wait to see what you’re wearing!” he said with a smile.
Wow. Not many twenty-something sons would give a flying hoo-ha what their mother was wearing to her birthday party.
I moved past the caterers—who were moving about like little robots—and entered the sanctum of my bedroom. Mine and Will’s bedroom. An image of us sliding underneath the covers together flashed in my mind. Almost as quickly, I shook it out.
Okay, now … what to wear?
I slid open the wardrobe but didn’t hold out much hope for a decent outfit. Not after this morning’s search produced only the coral-coloured atrocity. I flipped through the clothing hanging on thin metal hangers, silently scolding myself for allowing my fashion collection to be hung on such flimsy structures, instead of curved wooden hangers that kept the shape of the outfits, preventing that tell-tale pointy shoulder edge. Didn’t KC Interiors do coat hangers?
In frustration I sighed and leaned against the frame of the wardrobe, when suddenly the clothes began moving by themselves. They slid sideways on the rack, before curving around and disappearing into the wall behind. New clothes gradually appeared on the other side, coming out of the wall and curving around to the front. A rotating wardrobe!
Eventually it stopped and I had a whole new selection of clothes to choose from. These ones were much nicer, although a little mature for my taste and I flipped through the choices. My lips formed a pout as I remembered the red dress I’d bought and was planning on wearing to my twenty-fifth birthday party and now couldn’t. I’d even bought matching underwear; a cute balconette bra with sequined straps and lacy bikini briefs. Well, hopefully I’d still get to wear them.
I continued appraising my options, pulling a few from their rack and holding them up to my body in front of the mirror, momentarily shuddering at my smudged make-up and artificially windswept hair. Scrunching my lips, I put the outfits back on the rack and looked through the selection again. A protective slip hung on the rack and I lifted the bottom of it to reveal what it was protecting.
My red dress! I’d kept it all those years! I lifted the slip off and slid the dress from the hanger, holding it up in front of me. The sequins adhering to the soft figure-hugging fabric twinkled under the bedroom lamplight and I smiled, pleased to have something with me from the past. Something to remind me that my old life wasn’t just some dream fast disappearing from my consciousness.
I held the dress up against my body and looked in the mirror. My smile sunk downwards as I eyed my dress—and then my body.
I lay the dress on the bed and examined it with my hands. It was stretchy, it might fit. I could possibly squeeze into it if I had some sort of figure-squishing support underwear underneath. Or even a portable liposuction machine.
I pulled open the drawers of the dresser and rummaged through each one, quickly closing the first one when I came in contact with Will’s underwear. The third one housed various singlets and stockings … and voila! This looked promising! I pulled out an unopened cardboard package with a picture of a slim woman wearing a skin-coloured support suit on it.
SlimFX Magic Suit - drop a dress size and reveal your slim inner Goddess!
It must be related to the YouthMagic Facial, I thought, as I peeled off the plastic and withdrew the beige suit, which looked tighter than the red dress. I might need support underwear to be able to fit into the support underwear and that could go on and on. I’d be my own Russian doll.
I turned the package over to see if there were instructions for the suit, but all it said was to lift it over the head and roll it down the body like so. A diagram showed a woman—who clearly didn’t need the suit—happily putting it on. It also said to put on the bonus SlimBriefs before putting on the dress-shaped magic suit. I tipped the package upside down and shook out the hidden briefs. They looked like they might just fit a seven-year-old.
Okay, here goes. I was going to fit into this dress if it killed me.
I kicked off my shoes and took off my curved hem outfit, opting to leave my bra on even though it wasn’t exactly employee of the month in the breast support department. I stepped into the briefs, the fabric stretching to three times its size and pulled them up towards my hips where they abruptly stopped like a car in back-to-back traffic on the highway, or in this case, the ‘thighway’.
“Ugh,” I grunted in effort, pulling the briefs upwards. They only moved a smidgen, so I grunted and pulled some more. Bungy jumping would have come in handy right about now. “Ugh,” I continued, jumping up and down on the spot in the hope of forcing the briefs over my hips, probably causing the hors d’oeuvres in the kitchen to spring up and down on their platters, while the robotic caterers watched in confusion.
“C’mon!” I pulled harder and the briefs shot up over my hips and squashed my jelly belly into oblivion. Well, apart from the upper abdomen where the rolls billowed out like a giant mushro
om. The magic suit would fix that.
“Done.” I breathed a sigh of relief until dread washed over me as I realised each trip to the bathroom would be an Olympic feat. I’d just have to go easy on the drinks and anyway, I only had to survive until cake time.
Now for the suit. I held the tiny thing in front of me and pulled at it. It stretched quite well. I lifted it over my head, fed my arms through it and it sat in a horizontal clump across my collarbones.
Right, step one—check! Now to pull it down over my body. I drew in a deep breath and exhaled, quickly pulling down at the suit, but it only went halfway over my breasts. I breathed deeply again and, letting as much air whoosh out of my lungs as I could, yanked it further down my chest, flattening the boobs on the way. I might as well cancel that mammogram appointment as the SlimFX Magic Suit obviously had its own in-built mammogram function.
“Phew,” I said, the suit now clumped across my ribcage.
Step two—check! The last step was to squeeze it down my abdomen and hopefully dissolve the spare tire wrapped around my middle. I shouldn’t have glanced in the mirror at that moment but I did, shocked to see I almost resembled a Christmas cracker; pinched tight at top and bottom but thick in the middle.
“Okay, let’s do this.” I grabbed the suit with both hands and dragged it down my waist, squeezing my torso like a tube of toothpaste and eventually it slid over my hips where it ended just above my knees.
“Mission accomplished.” I nodded in satisfaction. Except … why were my breaths coming in shallow bursts?
The suit was constricting my ribcage and I couldn’t draw a deep breath. This awareness only made things worse and I panicked. Oh no, oh no, I’d better take this thing off!
I reversed my previous steps and pulled upwards at the suit, guiding it up over my hips and belly, and with one giant grunt, up and over my breasts which almost slapped me in the face from the effort. I took a few breaths of relief as the suit sat under my armpits for a moment. I crossed my arms, delivering my hands to opposite armpits and proceeded to pull the suit upwards over my shoulders and head. Only it got stuck halfway at my elbows, my face obscured by a blanket of beige and my arms up in the air, trapped alongside my head inside the suit that sure as hell wasn’t magic.
“Argh!” This thing was like a bloody straightjacket! I’d like to see Houdini get out of this one. I yanked and yanked, but the suit wouldn’t budge, and now it was almost cutting off my air supply, like I had envisioned my turkey neck could have done during the bungy jump. “Argh!” I panicked, the suit muffling my voice. I twisted and turned, swivelled this way and that, all the while trying to pull the suit up over my head, but there it stayed. In my furious efforts, I bumped into the edge of the bed and toppled over to the floor. My legs flailed about as I tried to get up without using my hands, which were waving about helplessly above my head with my elbow joints locked in place by the ‘miracle rip-proof triple-woven fabric’ of the magic suit.
Magic Suit my arse. More like Death Suit—this thing was killing me!
I grabbed the edge of the fabric again, pulling as hard as I could, but only managed to squash my face, my upturned nose now practically touching my forehead. I must have looked like one of those criminals who cover their face with stockings. I could rob a bank in this thing, only I’d need an accomplice—or a guide dog—to show me where the hell I was going and possibly an oxygen tank feeding me air through a straw.
Oh my God! What was I going to do? My mind swirled in one chaotic haze, as panic rose within and the chances of getting out of this predicament alive seemed slimmer by the minute. Unlike my abdomen.
Crazy images flashed through my mind of Will finding me passed out on the floor of the bedroom, the magic suit still covering my head, arms still stuck up in the air … paramedics whisking me off to hospital …. Will waiting anxiously outside the operating room and the doctor emerging with an expression of defeat, pulling the mask off his face in resignation.
I’m sorry, Mr McSnelly. We did everything we could. We managed to remove some of it, but couldn’t get it all, I’m afraid. The situation was too far advanced and she couldn’t fight any longer. I’m very sorry.
Will would collapse in tears and the doctor would go back to the operating room and sign my death certificate. Cause of death: Asphyxiation by SlimFX Magic Suit.
A lawsuit—ha! how appropriate—would ensue and, if the suits weren’t taken off the market, they would at least come with a warning on the packet like cigarettes: Use magic suit at own risk. May cause death, deformity, or post-traumatic stress disorder. They’d have a grotesque picture of some poor woman—probably me—trapped in the suit. Others would show gangrenous arms from the circulation being cut off and faces permanently disfigured from the pressure exerted by the suit during its attempted take-off mission. I realised then that I’d have to have a closed coffin at my funeral so as to spare my family from the trauma of seeing me like that. Speaking of coffins, I’d probably need an extra-long one to accommodate my arms, permanently extended above my head from not only the stuck magic suit but also rigor mortis.
Before my mind got carried away further with ridiculous visions from the lack of oxygen, I knew I had to get help.
“Help!” I yelled in a muffled voice, trudging blindly towards where I remembered the bedroom door to be. “Ryan, help!” I screamed through the door and, unable to open it, I banged it with my raised fists, adding a kick of my foot for good measure. The door swung open and banged me on the head, only adding to my dizziness and disorientation.
“Mum! Oh my God!” Ryan’s voice exclaimed, as he yanked at the top of the suit.
“Get it off me!” I yelled.
“I’m trying, I’m trying!” He continued yanking.
The poor kid, I’d probably scarred him for life. Thank God I had the good sense to keep my bra on underneath, otherwise this situation would be a whole lot worse with those two buggers on the loose.
“Ugh!” Ryan grunted and then spoke in a muffled voice.
“What did you say? I can’t hear properly!” My arms were stuck against my ears so not only could I barely breathe, speak or move, I was half deaf as well.
“I said: you’ll have to pull it back down, okay?” he yelled.
“No! I have to get it off, right now!”
“I know, but I’ve tried and I can’t. Let’s just pull it back down so we can figure out what to do!”
Except I couldn’t pull it back down since my arms were stuck and all blood had most likely drained out of them. Ryan pulled at the suit and it rolled gradually down my arms, over my head, and past my shoulders, until my face was free and I rapidly drew in wonderful, delicious gulps of air.
“There, at least you can catch your breath,” Ryan said.
“I … I’ve … got it … from here, thanks.” I turned away from my son and dragged the suit back over mammogram land, and then over my belly and hips. The shallow breaths I took were a welcoming contrast to the strangulation I’d experienced.
“Should I get some scissors?” Ryan asked, pointing out the door where two of the caterers looked on in horror.
“No, I’ll just have to leave it on for now. It’s okay, I can breathe. It’s a little tight, but not too bad. I’ll attack it with scissors once the night is over.” Which I probably wouldn’t need to do because as soon as that cake appeared I was out of here! At least I hoped I would be. I couldn’t take any more. This was the last straw. If worse came to worst and I was still here after the party, then at least the magic suit would be a deterrent to William’s advances and he’d probably give up and go to sleep.
“You sure?” Ryan asked and I nodded.
“Although, could you help me into my dress, just in case?” I flashed him an apologetic smile as I stepped into the dress, my body squishing further as he slid the zipper up at the back. There was a moment when I thought it wouldn’t go all the way up, but it did. Just.
After the most traumatic moment of my life, bar the bungy j
ump, I stood dressed and ready for my party. Apart from my hair which appeared starched in an upward fashion, and my lipstick which was now on my nose and my eyeliner which now graced the lines on my forehead.
“Why are you wearing this dress anyway, Mum?” Ryan asked, lines of confusion on his face.
“Why? Don’t you like it?” Were red sequined figure-hugging dresses some sort of fashion no-no in the future?
“Of course I like it, but it’s a bit old fashioned and anyway, it’s not exactly a costume.”
“A what?”
“A fancy dress costume. Your birthday event is a costume party, remember?”
Oh, crap. Crap. Crap. Crap.
All that hard work and I could have just worn a big white sheet, easily covered all my bits and called myself a ghost. Ryan’s eyes were awaiting an answer, so I racked my brain for an excuse.
“I … I’m … dressing up as my twenty-five-year-old self.” Brilliant, Kelli!
Ryan’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. “Right. Okay, it’s different I guess, but great idea, Mum.”
Phew. Drama averted.
“So did you wear shoes back then?” He glanced at my bare feet.
“Oh shoes, yes I need shoes!” My toes hooked under the handle of the bottom draw of the wardrobe and pulled it open. Thankfully there was a decent array of shoes to choose from, so long as my feet hadn’t gained weight too and needed their own support briefs. There were no red shoes to match my dress, so I plucked out a pair of plain nude heels, slipping my feet inside them.
As I did this, Ryan pulled some kind of mask over his face and I tipped my head back in realisation that his tail was part of a fancy dress costume and not the latest fashion as I had originally thought. “So, what are you dressed as?” I asked.
“Seriously?” he said. “You don’t know?”
I shrugged and held my palms up as if the answer might fall into my hands.
“The Lizardile,” he said in a teasing manner.
“The what?”
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