Of all the things those two women had said, what had hurt the most was the comment about letting herself go. Sure, Sienna had been born with natural beauty, but Rachel had always prided herself with knowing how to work with what she had. She’d starting playing with hair—hers and her girlfriends’—when she’d been about ten. She’d begun experimenting with makeup as soon as her mother would let her. She’d read books and pored over magazines and she’d always known she wanted to be a hairstylist. Beauty school hadn’t been work, it had been one giant revelation.
But ever since the divorce, she hadn’t cared as much about her appearance. She’d been stunned to discover nearly everything she owned was torn, stained or both. Yes, the salon had a dress code that was pretty much all black, all the time, but that didn’t mean she had to look frumpy. Black could be interesting and trendy.
She’d gone through her closet and tossed everything that was beyond repair. Then she’d spent an afternoon at the local thrift shop, searching for bargains. She’d found a cool burgundy leather obi belt for the unbelievable price of fifteen dollars and a pair of gently used knee-high boots. She’d also picked up a set of hand weights.
Change was hard, she thought as she turned the last corner and headed for home. Change was uncomfortable and she doubted herself every second. But what she knew for sure was that feeling like crap wasn’t the solution. Nor was eating badly and hating her life. She had a great son and a home she loved and family and friends. If she was miserable, wasn’t it her own fault?
“I have the power to create peace and happiness within myself,” she repeated. It was the affirmation of the day from the free app she’d downloaded onto her phone. Hokey, maybe, but it was working and that was all that mattered.
She called to Josh as she opened the front door to make sure he was up and getting ready for school. She heard the sound of the shower, along with his off-key singing, so she went into the kitchen and loaded the disgusting ingredients into the blender for her smoothie.
The combination of protein powder, coconut milk and flaxseed was enough to make anyone gag. The only thing that made the drink possible was the peanut butter powder she added. At least the flavor was tolerable.
When the drink was ready, she poured it into a tall glass, then retreated to her bathroom. She emerged forty minutes later, showered, coiffed and dressed. She’d taken extra time with her makeup that morning. A smoky eye flattered her, but she hadn’t bothered in forever. Because the extra four minutes were really that challenging? She supposed the actual problem was a downward spiral was difficult to stop. Momentum in any direction had power.
She pulled on black pants and a black tunic top, then wrapped the obi belt around her waist and tied it tight, then she looked at herself in the mirror.
She’d taken to sleeping with her hair in a braid to give it waves, then curling a few strands. The extra makeup looked good, and while she still had to lose about twenty-five more pounds, she appeared polished rather than pathetic. An improvement, she told herself.
She returned to the kitchen to find Josh at the table, eating, and his father sitting across from him. The sight of Greg brought her to a stop. For a second she felt flustered and nervous. As if she didn’t know what to say to him.
Ridiculous, she told herself. He was just her ex-husband. They dealt with each other because of Josh and that was all. He showed up in her house on a regular basis, and she had never much cared before. Whatever he’d been going on about after the baseball game a few weeks before didn’t matter.
“Good morning,” she said crisply as she carried her empty glass to the sink and rinsed it out. She crossed to Josh and kissed the top of his head. He briefly leaned against her. Then she looked at Greg.
“Were we expecting you?”
“Nope. I just got off work and came by on my own.”
He looked good in his uniform. A little tired, as if he’d had a couple of calls in the night, but still appealing. She remembered when they’d still been married and Josh had been sleeping late. How Greg would come home from his shift, crawl into bed with her and wake her up in the best way possible.
He held up a mug. “I started coffee. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” She got herself a mug and poured from the pot. “Did you, um, want something to eat?”
“I’m good, but you go ahead.”
She scooped some cottage cheese into a bowl and added blueberries. Combined with the protein shake, it would last her all morning. On the days she worked, she tried not to snack between meals. As long as she kept busy, she wasn’t thinking about food so much. She already had her lunch—she’d made that the night before. An effort to not have any excuses.