at the office, and I was delivered to the gym. I spent my mornings on cardio and
beauty treatments.
Every other week, I had my hair trimmed. Jeremy insisted I have laser hair
removal treatments to keep my skin smooth. I refused to have lasers near my intimate areas, so I endured the torturous waxings. I lost weight, toned up, and
looked like I belonged in Beverly Hills.
After six years of marriage, we had fallen into a routine. Jeremy loved me being at his beck and call. I kept my editing a secret, but even Thomas was pleased with my new life.
One evening after we made love, Jeremy sat up and stared down at me.
“What?” I questioned nervously.
He held my breasts in his hands, massaging them. “Let’s see if we can make
these perkier. I’ve heard Botox is used now, or we could get you some implants.”
“I think they are plenty big enough,” I said, not hiding my irritation.
“Just saying you aren’t getting any younger.” He smirked. “I need to keep my hot young wife. I can’t have a seven on my arm.”
Before I could stop myself, I relented. “I’ll look into the options, Jeremy.”
“Good girl.” He kissed my forehead. “Now, let’s see if there are other areas
that need attention.”
Forcing a seductive smile and a giggle, I played along as Jeremy inspected me for flaws. After he confirmed I passed his test for perfection, we once again
made love. When I knew he was in a deep sleep, I slipped out from our bed and
went to inspect myself in the mirror.
“Fuck it.” I wiped the tears from my face. “I’ll never be good enough.”
Throwing on a T-shirt and yoga pants, I grabbed the house keys and quietly
left. At the local donut shop, I ordered a dozen donuts and tucked myself in a booth. Without regard to my audience, I proceeded to devour the pastries. The young worker stared at me in shock. When I finished the last one, I daintily removed the crumbs from around my mouth and locked myself in the bathroom.
There I would purge the evidence of my crime.
I returned home, cleaned myself up, and searched the internet for ways to enhance the perkiness of my breasts. If I couldn’t make myself look better for him, I knew I would be forced to get cosmetic surgery.
Nineteen
Iwas able to keep up the perfect wife image, and I thought I had everything
under control. The longer we were in Los Angeles, the more I noticed little
things changing. Jeremy’s workout schedule became morning and evening
sessions. He started calling me ‘babe’ and ordered me skimpy dresses to wear. I
wondered if he was cheating but dismissed it as my own insecurities. I didn’t think he had enough time or stamina to cheat on me.
We had been married for seven years the first time I received tangible proof
that he cheated on me. Jeremy had been stupid enough to leave his phone on the
kitchen island. A picture of a blonde in bra and panties appeared on the screen.
“Who is she, Jeremy?” I asked, throwing his phone at him.
Catching it, he looked at the screen. He enjoyed the image a little longer than
appropriate for a man whose wife just caught him cheating.
“You’re worked up over this? It’s nothing. You’re imagining things.”
“You…you fucking liar! I saw the text message she sent you. I’m not going
to live with a lying cheat,” I screamed.
I began to storm off, but then I stopped and glared at him. “How long have
you been seeing her?”
