Cinderella Has Cellulite (7 page)

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Authors: Donna Arp Weitzman

BOOK: Cinderella Has Cellulite
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By now, your face is beginning to freeze into an eternal “say cheese” position. “What are you smiling for?” she spits. Shocked into reality, you realize permanent lines have now formed around your grin even as you think,
How I hate this witch
.

Suddenly your charm school training kicks in. “We know you are so happy for us,” you say as you squeeze your Beloved’s arm.

Thank God the ring is tightly wound around your finger!

Hyperventilating and unable to reply, she skulks off and later expresses her disappointment with a text to his Last Wife: “She is still standing. But I won’t give up. I am just like family and you can count on me.”

Thank God the ring is tightly wound around your finger! This battle is over, but the war has just begun.

H
as your Lovebird already constructed a nest or two for his former Turtledoves before you arrived? There is a high probability He loves living in the big oak tree just the way it is. His Ex may do a flyby occasionally to check out if you’ve changed things—and surely for the worse.

Although you may wince when the twigs left over from his former Beloved prick your love-primed buttocks, your Intended has said on more than one occasion, “My place is just the way I like it.” Uh-oh. Is that faint smell wafting through his bedroom Her Chanel No. 5, or a rotten core from the last Chickadee who was the apple of his eye?

Okay, Princess. Don’t even think of entering his lair until He at least changes the sheets. Even if He brags, “I just bought expensive new linens,” don’t be fooled. Realize that these are not for you, oh Cherished One. They are to cover up any sign of the last Canary who left flying south.

Instead, what if your nest is the perfect abode? You have spent years fine-tuning your bungalow to your liking. Yours is the one place that has provided comfort after fruitless forages into the singles-bar jungles or countless church socials. As you staggered in your front door night after futile night, you always found refuge there as you hysterically searched eHarmony into the wee morning hours. Could He possibly be planning to alter
your
roost?

Where do the newest snapshots of you two squeeze in?

Whether He invades your idyllic homestead, or you choose to settle into his nest (despite constant jabs from leftover reminders of the former female resident), this is a big decision! If you settle in his man cave, expect complications.

“Not to worry, my precious Lover,” He may whisper. “You can change the house however you want. I want it to be
yours
!”

These are the famous last words to a Last Wife’s ears. Take some advice from those who have been there. Tread as lightly as an army sergeant traversing the weeds in Cambodia. There is a buried explosive device ready to detonate if you so much as move his jock strap!

If you settle in his man cave, expect complications.

Which family portraits get the bigger spotlight, the best places in the house? Do images of the Ex stay? Will their bygone Disney vacation pics enjoy a permanent place in the hall? Where do the newest snapshots of you two squeeze in?

Don’t attempt to replace any pictures without his expressed approval, even if they are of his 1968 prom sweetheart’s bouffant or his frat brother smoking a reefer in holey underwear. Pictures are sacred—but only the ones taken before you, Last Wife. If morning after morning you sit down to a peaceful breakfast and stare at the same photo frame housing his former goateed brother-in-law and his Last Wife’s nephew, say a daily prayer: “I will learn to love these strangers. I will, I will . . . ”

If Lover Boy insists on living at your place, the rules are simple. Question his loyalty first, his asset base second. Don’t be fooled when He readily gives up the apartment He shared with the last Honey so He can easily settle in with you. Yours is a man of questionable loyalty.

This sucker is not bagged yet. In fact, you must be aware that you might be the next Last Girlfriend.

You may wonder if your highly mobile Inamorato will surge from your coop with a curious look in his eye whenever a new wave of comely chickens flies over. Does the least flutter ruffle his feathers? Your Man may be suffocating in the trees you call home. Some men need to soar like an eagle (if only to swoop down on the next unsuspecting victim).

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