Mountaineers, Buckaneers and Mars Bars

You know those days when you wake up with that lovely svelte feeling, the ones when you run your hands over your surely a dress size smaller hips, admire your pert breasts in the mirror and then weigh yourself to discover that you’ve actually put up three pounds (that’s just over a kilo to you kilo users!).

And you’ve put it up OVERNIGHT.
Well that!

That’s today. It’s also the day of The Climb.
I promised my sister that I’d do this charity climb with her, as her super fit (and super ripped) fiancé is away triathlon-ing in some far far away
foreign place where the sun will choose to deepen the tan on his muscular biceps and thighs. Not burn – he never burns.

Well today I’ll be accompanying my super fit (and also super ripped) sister up the side of a mountain.
In aid of Obesity Awareness Week.
And I’ll guarantee you this: I will burn. I always burn.
If I sit by the window for five minutes I burn. Sheesh.

The gravel crunches in the driveway and kicking the scales out of my way, I pop my head out the window and call out to come on in. My sister, Bridget whom I call Heidi because I swear to god she can’t possibly be my sister.
She’s tall, blonde and strong in that gorgeous Swedish way, where I’m short, red of hair & face and couldn’t whip cream in the most infuriating Irish way.

Anyhow! Heidi bounds up the steps and what do I see her waving?

A six pack of Mars Bars.

Mars Bars? I’m baffled.
Then she’s bounded up the stairs and has thrown herself across my unmade bed before I’ve managed to yank my track suit bottoms up, getting full view of my dimples – on my bottom and thighs that is.

“Heidi!” I shriek as she flips her blonde ponytail about. “A bitta privacy if you don’t mind!”

“It’s nothing I’ve not seen before. And anyway, we’re all the same.”

I eye up her lean legs and whittled waist. Like hell we’re the same!
She doesn’t notice my glare, so I drop on my side of the bed to try lean over and tie my laces. Heidi bounces off the bed as the mattress tsunami was meant to do. Then she notices my new walking boots and tuts.

“Have you broken those in?” A perfectly salon shaped brow arches at me.

“It’s not like they’re six inch stilettos!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” She preens in the mirror, swivelling her little tight buttocks about.

“Right. I’m ready. Let’s go.”
I mumble and drag my eyes from her and hasten by the mirror without a single glance. I don’t need to be reminded of our differences right now. I just need this day over.

“I got you those” she points to the six pack of Mars Bars the are languishing on my bed.
The only six pack that’s ever languished on my bed come to think of it.

“I don’t like Mars Bars,” I begin but she’s already bounded out and is in the car waiting before I finish.


Three red faced, sweat soaked hours later I’m in hell.
This is pure and utter torture and embarrassing to boot. I might actually commit murder up here in the mountains. Seriously – they’ll never find her I’d bury her so deep!
I’m mortified every half hour by her calling back to me to “pick up the pace!” And “Come on! I’ve your Mars Bars here!” And then she flups the bleeding packet around to tempt me.

I bleeding HATE Mars Bars.

I’ll swing for her, I swear I will.


Three hours later and we’re on the way down. No one thought to tell me that coming down was far feckin worse than going up! My knees are on fire, my thighs are quivering and my sweat soaked t shirt is stuck to me in all the wrong places.
Heidi feckin Hi has run down the bleedin mountain no less. Run. As if her being my sister wasn’t enough salt in the wound.

I’m being tailed by this fine thing. It’s the only thing keeping me going. I can’t give in now. As I trudge on, ignoring my screaming thighs he catches up with me and falls in beside me.

Could it get much worse? Shite. Now I’ve said that it surely will.
I’ll probably fall, snap a femur and have to be air lifted off the mountain.
And the helicopter won’t be able to lift me.

Oh! He’s talking to me!
Right. I’d better talk back.

He’s Irish, that’s a good thing, and pretty obvious too- because although he’s a mighty fine specimen, he just has that air about him. You know, the ‘I got dressed in the dark, in a crap charity shop’ look about him, so unlike European men. Or women come to think of it.

He’s a gardener! My ears prick up.
I’m a gardener!

He likes The Script and going to the cinema.
Me too!

He hates his super successful lawyer brother who always gets a brand new Audi in the New Year, and buys the reg plate to match.
I’ve a sister like that too!

Then the next thing I realise is that we’ve arrived at the car park. I did it!
I beam at him and he beams back.
I can’t believe it! I want to scream from the mountain tops ( but I’m NOT climbing back up to do it.) I feel free! My trembling thighs don’t matter anymore, I’ve done it!

Heidi is bouncing in front of me, she’s flapping about and shrieking about this mammoth climb I’ve done and shoves the Mars Bars into my unwilling hands.
Hear suffuses my face, everyone is looking at me. The chubby girl with her hands full of Feckin Mars Bars. Christ I wish the ground would open up and swallow me.

He’s staring at me. I look down at my hands through blurry vision.

I wish I hadn’t come.
My elation flows through my feet into the stony ground and I turn away.

“I feckin HATE Mars Bars” I mutter and stare back up the pathway I’ve just come down from.

“Me too”
He plucks the six pack from my hand and flings it over his shoulder without a glance. Heidi glances up just as the six pack whizzes by her head, missing her by a fraction.

“Ah!” She leaps and stumbles, falling backwards into the egg mayonnaise sandwiches that someone had just unwrapped. Her tight bottom lands square on them. All eight of them, with an almighty squelch and ungodly stink.

Open mouthed I watch as she wriggles about, eggs oozing everywhere.
Then it just bursts from me with a snort, a huge unladylike snort.
Beside me, he laughs too and we clutch each other as tears roll down our faces.

“Did you see?” I manage before convulsing again.
“Ah ha ha YES!” He chokes with mirth.
“Can’t breathe!”
“Me too!”


Heidi didn’t like that he gave me a lift home.
She didn’t like being my bridesmaid either, being seven years engaged.

I still don’t like feckin Mars Bars. And now neither does she.

2 thoughts on “Mountaineers, Buckaneers and Mars Bars

  1. Gwen says:

    Excellent Story. I’m gagging for a mars bar now though!!! xx

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