Page 37 of The Player's Obsession

“Don’t forget, he’s just using me to get under the skin of his ex.”

“Don’t worry. Melanie dumped him, and she is not about to be a runaway bride, no matter how hot Oliver is.”

“I think he’s still in love with her.”

“He thinks he’s in love with her, there’s a difference,” Lucinda says as she maneuvers onto the highway.

“Hm. Maybe.” I don’t know why I’m feeling hurt. I have a job to do and have no right to feel upset or jealous. So why does it bother me that he’s still hung up on his ex?

Lucinda is my secret weapon. She has an eye for color that rivals that jailbird, Martha Stewart. She is so complimentary and supportive that I almost forget who I am. Amnesia will be useful when I pose as Oliver’s fiancée and lie through my teeth. The idea of being an impostor is the only thing dampening this glorious day of shopping.

“I feel like a star,” I squeal as I try on another sequined dress, spin, and pretend to walk a runway towards Lucinda.

It feels so good to be wearing clothes that make me feel better about myself. Oliver deserves all the credit. If not for him, I would be sitting at home in a bathrobe eating Rocky Road ice cream straight out of a carton. Instead, I am shopping for a wardrobe fit for a princess. I anticipate being treated like royalty when I go places with him.

It’s a fairy tale come true.

Lucinda is great at finding clothes that flatter my ample figure. My grandmother always told me I have child-bearing hips and would appreciate them in the delivery room. I know they are wide enough to sneeze out a baby in a heartbeat.

Pantsuits actually look good on me. Lucinda found one in a cream color and paired it with turtlenecks in black and red. The colors complement my skin tone. The outfit can be dressed up or down, and the wool blend fabric is great for our cold winters.

“Designer clothes are made better and tend to fit better. You’re not just paying for the name. The fabric, zippers, and buttons are all of better quality. The store has a seamstress on the premises if you need anything altered or hemmed.”

“News to me, but it makes sense. At these prices, store owners can afford to pour champagne down our throats and offer us free alterations. How do celebrities make it all look so easy?”

“It’s called a glam squad of professionals doing your hair, makeup, and wardrobe. Photographers know how to use lighting and filters to create the illusion of perfection. No wonder we all walk around in a perpetual state of insecurity. Magazines and social media use deception to sell their products. Like when advertisers use pictures of twenty-year-old models to sell age-defy skin creams. The makeup ads are all photoshopped and filtered, but people still buy the products.”

“I wear lipstick because it protects my lips and prevents chapped lips. Not because some influencer on TikTok is telling me it’s great.”

“Smart. Because if all those creams really worked, no one would ever need fillers and facelifts.”

Eddie The Editor

This passage beautifully captures a transformative moment. Let's refine it for a more vivid and reflective tone:

With our wardrobe expedition complete, we drift towards the accessories section, settling on a necklace resembling something from Tiffany. Lucinda gently clasps it around my neck. I approach a mirror, my fingers lightly tracing the embossed letters as I study my reflection. A question lingers in my mind: Who am I? Was this elegant, poised version of myself hidden beneath layers of sweatpants all along? I can't help but feel like a caterpillar that's finally emerged from its cocoon and transformed into a butterfly.

My delight in this new look is so overwhelming that I can't resist taking a selfie. "Lucinda, join me," I beckon, grabbing her hand. We strike a pose, and I capture the moment. "This one's definitely going on social media," I say with a chuckle, uploading our photo.

But as I stare at the image, my mind is suddenly catapulted back in time—to a birthday party when I was seven, giggling in a photo booth. The warmth of nostalgia envelops me as I recall my childhood friend, with whom I still exchange texts a few times a year. I'm left wondering, when did the course of my life veer so sharply from that innocent joy?

I withdraw from life when things aren’t going well, another indication I’ve been struggling for some time. Going away to college was good because it gave me the independence and confidence to make my own decisions. It was liberating, and I got a break from my family.

“We still need to get you a suitcase. You can’t show up at that hotel with your clothes in a plastic bag,” Lucinda declares, still holding my hand and dragging me to the luggage department.

“Right, I would have forgotten.”

“I know. I have a list, and we’re not done yet. You need a designer clutch for the wedding, too.”

“Oh, boy,” I moan.

“You can’t lug around that huge purse of yours.” I change back into my street clothes, and the fitting room attendant offers to carry my selections to the register.

“Fine.”

Picking a purse takes no time. A black clutch will match the black Jimmy Choo heels I’m buying. And a beige clutch will go well with the pantsuit.

"The last item on Lucinda’s shopping list is lingerie. My eyebrows arch into puzzled furrows as she nonchalantly adds a lacy teddy to our growing pile of purchases. She disregards my bewildered gaze.

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