Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) by Melissa Hill Page A

looking at … was he looking at her ?  Louise wasn’t sure. 
    It was a bit weird.  Usually when they were out on the town, the good-looking lads nearly always made a beeline for Fiona, her long shiny almost jet-black hair, exotic looks and pretty heart-shaped face making her stand out from the rest of the girls – especially Louise, who was at least a stone overweight and … No, Louise admonished herself quickly, you must stop thinking like that.  You are no longer the overweight one here – in fact, according to your beloved sister, you are at least half a stone under weight for your height. 
    Of course, when she’d had all those additional problems after her accident, her weight had dropped off considerably, although not enough to make a major difference.  But the bits that had dropped off made Louise doubly determined never ever to let them back on again. 
    It wasn’t very pleasant being overweight, really.  When she’d moved to Dublin at first she had very little self-confidence (not that she’d had much to start with, she thought wryly), few friends, and practically no social life.  In the beginning, she’d convinced herself she didn’t mind really; after all, she was happy enough as she was getting her little bedsit in Rathgar decorated, and settling into her new life, so the lack of company didn’t matter too much.
    It was only after a few months living in Dublin and working at ACS that she realised she didn’t really know anyone. So much for her great new life! 
    So, in order to get out and about and try to stop herself from feeling lonely, when the bright evenings came in, Louise began to go out after work for long walks around the area.  It made her feel great. There was always lots of life around the place and, for once, Louise felt as though she was really part of it. 
    After that, when the evenings weren’t so bright, she got a bit braver and decided to join a gym.  Not one of those trendy, noisy spots that looked like a nightclub, though – Louise wouldn’t feel at all comfortable in one of those.  No, she joined a small, old-fashioned-type place, which was really more for the locals – a place with only a handful of treadmills and not a stepper in sight.   Thankfully, Louise’s gym didn’t have any of those He-Man Master of the Universe types looking over your shoulder, and banging on about your fat-to-muscle ratio either. No, in her gym, nobody looked over your shoulder unless they wanted to you to hurry up and get off the place’s only shaggin’ treadmill so they could have a go.
    So that was how Louise almost overnight (it took her months overall, but overnight sounded better) went from twelve and a half stone down to nine and a half stone, which for someone as tall as Louise made a hell of a lot of difference – in more ways than one.
    Despite the fact that she had that huge loan for the hospital bills hanging over her head, she couldn’t resist going out and buying clothes that she had never in a million years believed she would ever wear.  Things like halter-neck tops (the bulgy arms were gone), satin pencil skirts (the bulgy thighs too) and, although it was only a short mad phase, belly tops (self-explanatory).
    But after a while she developed taste, and although it took her absolutely ages to pluck up the courage to go into those lovely boutiques in the Georges St Arcade – the lovely fancy ones where the shop assistants asked “Hello, can I help you with anything?” instead of just narkily nudging you out of the way like they did in the shopping centres.  Once she did that, Louise really didn’t look back.  She had a bit of an eye, not so much for fashion, but for what suited her.  Why else were the girls at work constantly complimenting her clothes and trying to find out where she “picked up these fabulously original pieces?”.
    Fiona O’Neill, the office’s self-proclaimed fashionista, seemed particularly interested and one day Louise suggested