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“You need that shit on social media. Post it!” she commands.
“I do look kind of cute,” I admit with a wistful little smile. A little caught off guard, maybe, but my tits are perky, my arms look a little toned, and Holly-Anne is right—I am kind of glowing.
I have no makeup on, and my hair is a wet mess. Two years ago, I would have never liked a picture of myself like this. But now…I actually kind of like how I look, even when I’m not all glammed up.
I toss it up on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook and throw some hash tags in the captions.
“Damn girl,” Holly-Anne says, obviously still reeling from the news. “Your first fuck after the big breakup with Ryan is a threesome. I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever get back in the game…and here you are, playing a double header.”
Ugh. I would have preferred that she didn’t mention him…but even I have to admit, it does feel kind of like sweet revenge.
“I mean, the guy dumped me after I lost my contract,” I say. “Can you really blame me for taking my time? I thought he loved me for me.”
“Ryan was a piece of shit, and he never deserved you,” she says solemnly. “You fucking know that, right?”
“Actually…I’ve been contemplating about whether or not I should message him again now that I’m skinny,” I reveal.
I don’t exactly feel good about that, honestly. I had missed him for so long. Or at least, I’d missed the companionship, the cutesy couple bullshit, and the admittedly less-than-regular sex.
“No, Kara. Fuck that. You’re moving on! And in a really fun way. Two guys at once…I am all about this.” Holly-Anne pops open the freezer door and starts digging around for ice cream. “How did it even happen? Spill, girl.”
“Well, they started watching me work out and helped me exercise.”
“Mmmhmm,” Holly-Anne says, grabbing a spoon. “And then?”
“Aaand then they caught me masturbating to them in the shower…so I guess they figured they’d make my fantasies a reality.”
“You crazy bitch. I am so proud of you,” she says, popping the lid off a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. “Want some?”
“Nah,” I laugh. “I’ve had plenty of cream in my diet for one day, if you know what I mean.”
I make my way into my bedroom to get out of these clothes. If I had gone to the gym, like, ever before in my life, I would have known to pack something clean to change into post-workout—but before today, my lazy ass didn’t even own workout clothes.
Something to keep in mind for next time, I guess. Because with Chase and Eric around…you can bet your ass there will be a next time.
I check my closet for clothes, turning hanger after hanger and finding nothing I want. I sigh. I need to go shopping again.
None of my shit that’s cute fits, and none of my shit that fits is cute.
I decide to just throw on some pajamas.
Fuck it, right? I have to tighten the little drawstring at the waist as much as I can to keep the pants on my hips, but it’s better than nothing. The silk feels good against my skin—nice and cool.
Back in the living room, my phone buzzes loud against the table. Like, constantly.
When I check it to see what’s up, my notifications are flooded with likes, hearts, and comments. It’s nothing unusual for a former plus-sized public figure…except that I’ve been pretty much media-silent since I lost my contract, and I figured I would have lost my following by now.
I scroll through the notifications, just perusing the positive comments. But then a notification comes in from him.
My heart skips a fucking beat, then lodges itself in my windpipe.
“Holly-Anne,” I croak as I turn my phone to her.
“That little shit,” Holly-Anne swears back.
Ryan has started following my profile again.
On some level, I’m actually surprised. Not that he’s joined my fan base, though…but more because I’m not actually sure that I care. My initial reaction was as expected, but the follow-up leaves something to be desired.
