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I wasn’t seductive, like Harper; my version of sexy was less sultry lioness and more graceless baby horse.
She cocked her head back and laughed, showing off a flash of her overbite while painting a picture of being eaten out.
She wasn’t the real me, who took pride in herself and her appearance. I wanted the real Jeanine to return. I knew I had to do something big to change my path: bariatric surgery.
The signs were all there the first day we met and a woman’s intuition never fails. Her coldness. Her disinterest. They all pointed to her desire for D and her disdain for me.
We’ve been forced to accept change despite our pleas for sameness.
Her silk pillow. To maintain her curly hair. To keep it shiny. To remain au naturel. It lies there because she lies there. It lies there in its permanency because she is not going anywhere.