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Kara
I can’t believe how many people are still showing me support after I posted that selfie yesterday. Every time I think the likes and comments might stop coming in…my phone buzzes again with a new notification. At this rate, I could use the fucking thing as a vibrator.
It would give a whole new meaning to getting off on social media, at any rate.
Posting pictures of a thinner me is still difficult. It makes me feel like I’m cheating the people who used to think of me as a plus-sized role model.
But at the same time, promoting a healthier, happier me is a good thing. Everyone is comfortable at different places and sizes—and this is the size that I’m comfortable at right now. I don’t feel like that’s a bad message to send.
Regardless, the ratio of bad and good comments t
hat came about from my post show that the vast majority of my fans still support the shit out of me, and that’s just awesome.
I feel like I could climb a mountain?riding this high of overwhelming support from them as my source of energy?and I’d make it to the top. No questions asked.
I grab a wash cloth and some exfoliating scrub to clean my face before I head off to the gym. I think taking care of your skin before and after a workout is important. I can’t afford any blemishes with my recent spike in attention, and keeping my face acne-free has become pretty much effortless since I stopped eating the nutritional equivalent of garbage.
Not to mention I’d probably focus more on that than my workout if that happened. I’d be concerned that my flaws were all that Chase and Eric would be looking at. With those two in mind, I’ll be deep cleaning my skin day and night if that’s what it takes.
I grab a towel and blot my face after I rinse the exfoliant from it. Once I’m nice and dry, I hang the towel and make my way over to my dresser.
I pull out my underwear drawer and find a pair of whoops, I’m accidentally sexy panties. They are low cut in the front and tastefully revealing in the back, so my shapely ass will show well through my leggings.
I grab a couple of socks, not bothering to match them, because really, who has time for that? I find a good pair of calf-length leggings and a black sports bra. Aaaand a cut-off crop top, because why the hell not?
For once, I don’t even have to feel uncomfortable about rocking it.
I assemble my look and take a step back to examine myself in the mirror. I look adorable, fuckable, and totally ready to work up a sweat.
I leave my room and walk out to my living room. I see a pretty decent-sized stack of mail sitting on my coffee table and decide I should probably look it over before Lucy swats it around.
I have a system for sorting my mail.
Bills are trash. I pay everything online.
Ads are trash. I look up everything online.
Credit card offers are trash. The APRs on anything pre-approved are terrible.
And then I come to a hand-written letter with no return address.
It’s a peculiar little envelope. The base color is an off white, and there’s a lace pattern embossed into the paper. I quickly flip it over and peel the adhesive away.
I’d believe it was a mystery, but considering my history with strange, unmarked envelopes…I can take a fucking guess.
Inside, I find a small, hand-written letter from none other than Evian Sprague, my former bitch of a boss at Gilded Lily.
These fucking bullying tactics are getting really old. All of her letters say the same thing in different words. As usual, she’s upset that I bounced back from being at the bottom when I got fired.
Also enclosed with the letter is a photoshopped picture of me. The selfie I posted yesterday, at that. I’m painted up to be over three hundred pounds again, and with a chocolate sauce mustache to boot.
I wonder if she could be any more passive-aggressive and any less original. I roll my eyes as I toss her little love note into the trash with the rest of the junk.
I give Lucy a short scratch under her chin before heading out the door. I lock the deadbolt on my way out, and head down the stairs, which is a much easier task tonight than it was yesterday. Phew.
I start to feel my stomach churning as I get to my car. With everything that happened yesterday, I should be nervous right now.
But I’m not. I have butterflies because I’m so fucking excited to be at the gym with Chase and Eric again.
