Page 4 of Insta-Hubby
Enter web 2.0. I can get online and get content out to my followers inseconds. In some ways it has the capacity to make our world smaller. In some ways it has the capacity to make our world bigger. I use it to make my world big and wide open. To let people in. To stretch my arms out farther than I waseverable to before, and I’m not just talking about my ability to hop on my family’s private plane and go to some island where we have a vacation home. No, I mean meeting people in my very own city that I probably wouldn’t have before.
So this little photo op, it’s all for them.
I check behind me to see the girls.
And I keep running, feeling my feet bounce off the pavement, and feeling a smile stretch across my face.
But it’s tempered. I keep going back to the conversation with my father.
I can’t get it out of my head. Truth is, I shouldn’t want to. This damn problem is too big for me to ignore. It’s something I should be turning over in my head and trying to find a solution to, starting two hours ago. Dad would say how I’ve chosen to spend today is part of my problem. That I’m not taking my role in the family seriously. That I’m shirking my responsibilities.
Maybe I am. Maybe the worst part is that I agree with my dad on things more than I want to admit to myself.
So for now, I’m running. The park is flying past me on my left and shops and tourists are flying past me on my right, and behind me is a group ofverygorgeous women, and up ahead is...well, I can’t see that far ahead yet. And whether I’m running toward something or away from something - yeah that part’s not so clear either.
All I know is that I make it lookdamngood. And everyone wants to see me doing it.
Whether it’s real or not.
Anna
The girlwho’s appointment it is looks just like me.
Except she doesn’t.
We’re both the same size. I’m herebecauseI’m the same size as her. We have similar measurements. The same dark brown hair and brown eyes. Similar complexions. We’re about the same age. We might even be wearing the same exact shade of lipstick.
But that’s where the similarities end.
“This is okay, I guess,” the perfect girl next to me says, taking a sip of her champagne. “I guess I just think we could be doingmorewith the dress. It’s very nice, but it’s a bit boring, isn’t it?”
I swallow and purse my lips, but otherwise I stay perfectly still. I can feel Maggie trying to catch my glance in the mirror so she can roll her eyes at me, but I don’t want her to. I know there’s about a fifty percent chance I’ll start laughing at this rich girl and her idea of a twenty thousand dollar dress being boring if I see Maggie smirking and rolling her eyes.
“Mmm, mhm,” Maggie makes a noise with her mouth, but she’s not reallysayinganything.Iknow she is being sarcastic with her little nod and the way she brings one finger to her lips as she crosses one of her thin arms across her stomach and places her hand in the crook of her elbow. “I see what you mean. Yes, you’re right. There should be some more luxurious details on the dress. What do we think of the silhouette, though?”
“Oh, I love the silhouette,” rich girl says, smoothing her hand against the skirt. “It’s beautiful. But I think the lace on top is just not my style. There should be more sparkle on it.”
I like sparkle too, so I can’t fault her for that.
“The back,” she adds, walking around me, taking my body in from every angle, “the back looks fabulous. This would actually look great on me. In fact, I’d like to try this one on. The skirt and the back are just too pretty, even if the top would need some alterations.”
“Oh,fabulous,” Maggie says, shooting me a smirk in the mirror as our eyes meet. She walks over to me and starts to help me down off the little platform. “I thought you’d like the overall look of the dress. And we can add a belt or something to make it a little more blinged-out. Or a necklace.”
I can see the dollar signs swirling around Maggie’s head.
“Oh,” the bride-to-be says, “not thisexactdress, right?”
An awkward silence descends over the three of us. I’ve had this happen to be before.
“Oh, well yes, this dress is your size, and we selected this one so it would be ready for you and you wouldn’t have to wait for us to pull anything.”
I groan inside my head and shoot Maggie a look.
Why’d she have to say the wordsize?
Maggie, we’ve been through this before! This is a code red! Danger! Proceed with extreme caution!
“Oh,” the girl says, a nervous laugh slipping from her lips and spilling out into the awkward air around us. “This isn’t my size. I’m a sizesix. This dress will beswimmingon me!”
