Now friends. I want to share with you a little secret today. I get compliments on how wonderful I look all the time. People come up to me on the street and say, “Kate, how do you stay so thin? How do I get a stomach like that? You must not eat food.” I won’t lie to you. It is hard work. The secret is my personal trainer Sara. Actually Sara is more my soul mate, my best friend, and my sister from another mother than she is my trainer. Her creative achievements are manifold. With her help I have managed to take control of my cravings, lose the weight from two babies (click here for more adorable photographs of Angel Dust and Hercules), and regain the energy I lose from filming for eighteen hours a day (click here to see clips from my latest movie). Let me take you into the best fitness class you’ll ever visit, The Workout!
First off let’s talk about the wardrobe. It’s a little slice of monochromatic heaven. Sara and I both believe that eliminating color from your wardrobe is the great equalizer. It is one of the greatest democratic issues of our time. You all know my history with primary colors. I can’t even get into it now. The whole class wears delicious grey clothing. It’s the most wonderful mixture of Brazilian dance and jujitsu, mixed with tantric breathing, conscious muscle movement, and some old schoolyard tricks. You walk away feeling energized, thin, and strong, and I cannot tell you the benefits for your skin (click here to see my new vagina skin care line).
And, today only, seriously, today only, sign up for my Lovely newsletter, to receive a little bit of inspiration every single day, and you could win a free pass to The Workout in New York City.
How could this story cause a rift between Kate Wells and Sara Strong? She just didn’t get it. Sure, it was pretentious and self-congratulatory, but it wasn’t something worth ending a friendship over.
Janey began puttering around the apartment, running her fingers along the edge of her bookshelves. There was a picture of her and Beau on her wedding day. Instead of feeding her cake like a groom, he appeared to be withholding a slice from her, and her head was thrown back with laughter. There was the pair of them at high school graduation and lounging on a beach in Anguilla after some celebrity wedding. There was a photograph of Beau with Miss Lorna when she was still young and healthy and Beau was a wild-eyed teenager. The Sweet family really had been Beau’s only family. God, she loved this one. It was a picture of the two of them at her debutante ball just a few months before everyone left town for college. Janey hadn’t cared about the formalities of “coming out” to Charleston society, but Beau convinced her to embrace the silly tradition so that he could design her the grandest deb dress in all of South Carolina. “Think of it as my coming out,” he’d said with a snigger. Janey hadn’t seen the dress during the three months that Beau designed and crafted it. He’d sent it to her just an hour before the event. Looking at the two of them standing on her front porch still made her sick with excitement after all these years. The dress was a white satin corset (très nineties Dolce), with an enormous tulle skirt. She swore she saw tears in Beau’s eyes when he first saw her in it. “Janey Sweet, you are a swan,” he had said to her. They walked arm in arm practically the entire evening. It was one of the most romantic nights of her life.
· · ·
The adrenaline high from that morning’s exercise was beginning to fade, causing a dull ache just behind her eyes. She must be dehydrated. She poured herself a glass of water from the bathroom sink and looked at herself in the mirror. This bathroom had very good lighting, Today show lighting, Beau liked to call it. “It can make Matt Lauer look twelve years old,” he would say. “And I know Savannah has more wrinkles around her eyes than what we’re seeing in HDTV.” Janey still genuinely liked what she saw in the mirror. There hadn’t been many new lines around her eyes or mouth for ten years, and since she stopped working some of the navy crevices beneath her eyes had begun to fade back to a nice normal beige. The flesh beneath her chin was certainly softer and looser, and she had a pair of parallel lines between her eyes that only used to appear when she squinted. Now they’d taken up permanent residence. She pulled up her shirt to inspect her belly, gave it a poke, and watched the soft flesh jiggle. She pinched her stomach between all four fingers and her thumb and then let the flesh flop unceremoniously over her elastic waistband like a jellyfish surrendering onto a beach. This wasn’t a huge cause for alarm. She’d never had the abs of a sixteen-year-old Britney Spears, but then again she’d also never had a tummy that flopped quite so easily. She looked down at the clock on her phone. It was only 8:30 a.m. What was she going to do with herself for the rest of the day?
CHAPTER SEVEN
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“Now I circle your fat.”
“Excuse me?” Janey stammered to the small woman named Heidi with a thick German accent currently crouching on the ground in front of her with a thick Sharpie marker.
“I circle problem areas.”
At Ivy’s recommendation, Janey had booked herself a Saturday appointment at FroZen, a new clinic on the Upper East Side that promised to freeze away your excess fat through cryotherapy. Straight out of a science fiction novel, Janey paid two hundred dollars to stand naked for four minutes in a booth cooled to ?10 degrees Fahrenheit.