A BREAK FROM HER ROUTINE

Jean-Marie had intended to let her robe drop gracefully and seductively to the floor, like a starlet in a Hollywood movie might have done. Instead she flung it off her body and nearly tripped over it backing away from the mirror. She almost couldn't look at herself. Her hips ballooned outward from her belly and sagged into her thighs, marred by stretchmarks, Brent and Tyler's fault. Her knees looked like sponges made of skin. Her breasts drooped over her ribcage, nipples pointed almost straight down. Flaps of skin hung from her upper arms. None of her delicate beauty had survived. The last time she had looked at herself, she remembered thinking that she didn't look so bad for a woman of forty. This time she realized she had been lying to herself. She looked like hell. And finally, there was nothing to be done about it. It made her want to scream.

Again she sat on the edge of the tub, this time lowering herself sideways, like an invalid, into the sudsy water. Water flowed up against the sides of the tub as she settled in. The suds, like whitecaps, peaked and fell, peaked and fell. She lay back and let the water rush into her ears, sending a shiver down her spine despite the heat. The room began to spin a little, so she closed her eyes and gripped the sides of the tub, and lay perfectly still, listening to the sound of the water. She heard the bass line from a Michael Bolton song, whatever song was playing, she couldn't tell and she didn't care anymore. She heard the voices downstairs. Little by little, the water stilled. Eventually the Michael Bolton song ended, too. For a few seconds, Jean-Marie lay still in her tub in absolute silence. Then she faded off to sleep.

Doing a little reminiscing are we??????