hard she nearly fell over. Shoshana put her face in her sister’s neck and inhaled her original scent of patchouli oil and strawberry bubble gum. Emily’s eyes flashed as Shoshana realized she was glaring at Alexis, who was retrieving her purse from a small locker. She sat down on a couch and changed into much higher heels.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Emily spat from across the tiny room. “You obviously have some serious mental issues.”
“Em, shush,” her mother said, embarrassed. She hated conflict, like Shoshana. But Emily hadn’t traveled around the world as a roadie for the Dropkick Murphys or tattooed half of Manhattan to let some horrible woman show her big sister up on TV.
“Rumor has it my sister’s blog has twice the readers yours does,” she spat at Alexis, who was still struggling with the strap of her flashy Miu Miu pumps. She had a Hello Kitty Band-Aid wrapped around her heel.
“Close,” Alexis said calmly. “She has five million, I have three. And I read her blog every day. I’m a big fan of her writing, it’s smart and witty.”
Emily was momentarily silenced. “Well, whatever,” she said finally. “That was still a dirty move to bring up our father. Obviously you don’t have any family values or else you would never have mentioned his death just to prove a point.”
Shoshana and her mother were both beet-red by now. They held Emily by each arm and tried to escort her out of the room, so they could get back to the Four Seasons and rest before their flight back to New Jersey in the morning.
Alexis walked right up to Emily and looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I felt it pertinent to mention that although fun to read, your sister runs a dangerous blog that suggests unhealthy ways for young women to live. Accepting yourself as fat is an unhealthy notion. I did not bring up your dad to upset any of you, but because it was important information for Shoshana’s readers to know, and she doesn’t ever talk about it on Fat and Fabulous. ”
Emily, Shoshana, and her mother stared at this tiny, thin woman with that fashionable clothing and sad face. Shoshana held on to her mother and sister, her hemp purse held tight against her frame. She felt a white-hot rage, and, being a good-natured, friendly girl, it was hard for her to tell anyone off. She finally came up with a comeback, but her voice shook: “I feel sorry for you, really. You seem very unhappy.”
Alexis opened her mouth, her expression pained, and held out her arm as if to ask them to hear her out, but the three Weiner women turned and sashayed out of Oprah’s studio, arms entwined, hips swinging. They signed out with security, thanked everyone on set, and were whisked into a limo parked directly outside. The driver had a menorah stuck with suction cups to his dashboard, which made Shoshana smile. She watched the city fly by outside her window, people walking through gray slush, clutching shopping bags, their faces flushed red with the cold. Stores had holiday lights strung throughout, giving the streets a cheery glow. Hanukkah had passed last week, and Christmas was just around the corner. She had to remember to buy gifts for her roommates. Maybe before her flight in the morning.
As the doorman greeted her and her family, Shoshana realized suddenly that she was exhausted. “Being a superstar is tiring,” she said once they’d passed the ornate lobby in a flash of sound and faces, taken the elevator to their room, and flopped onto the gigantic feather bed. It was late, and outside her window were star-shaped ice crystals. A soft powder of snow had fallen, bathing the room in a periwinkle light. There was laughter on the sidewalk, someone ringing a bell for holiday collections, the honking of the street bus.
Emily jumped into bed beside her, and their mother wearily sat down in the middle of both daughters.
“Let’s order ridiculously expensive lobsters off the room service menu and
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Emily spat from across the tiny room. “You obviously have some serious mental issues.”
“Em, shush,” her mother said, embarrassed. She hated conflict, like Shoshana. But Emily hadn’t traveled around the world as a roadie for the Dropkick Murphys or tattooed half of Manhattan to let some horrible woman show her big sister up on TV.
“Rumor has it my sister’s blog has twice the readers yours does,” she spat at Alexis, who was still struggling with the strap of her flashy Miu Miu pumps. She had a Hello Kitty Band-Aid wrapped around her heel.
“Close,” Alexis said calmly. “She has five million, I have three. And I read her blog every day. I’m a big fan of her writing, it’s smart and witty.”
Emily was momentarily silenced. “Well, whatever,” she said finally. “That was still a dirty move to bring up our father. Obviously you don’t have any family values or else you would never have mentioned his death just to prove a point.”
Shoshana and her mother were both beet-red by now. They held Emily by each arm and tried to escort her out of the room, so they could get back to the Four Seasons and rest before their flight back to New Jersey in the morning.
Alexis walked right up to Emily and looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I felt it pertinent to mention that although fun to read, your sister runs a dangerous blog that suggests unhealthy ways for young women to live. Accepting yourself as fat is an unhealthy notion. I did not bring up your dad to upset any of you, but because it was important information for Shoshana’s readers to know, and she doesn’t ever talk about it on Fat and Fabulous. ”
Emily, Shoshana, and her mother stared at this tiny, thin woman with that fashionable clothing and sad face. Shoshana held on to her mother and sister, her hemp purse held tight against her frame. She felt a white-hot rage, and, being a good-natured, friendly girl, it was hard for her to tell anyone off. She finally came up with a comeback, but her voice shook: “I feel sorry for you, really. You seem very unhappy.”
Alexis opened her mouth, her expression pained, and held out her arm as if to ask them to hear her out, but the three Weiner women turned and sashayed out of Oprah’s studio, arms entwined, hips swinging. They signed out with security, thanked everyone on set, and were whisked into a limo parked directly outside. The driver had a menorah stuck with suction cups to his dashboard, which made Shoshana smile. She watched the city fly by outside her window, people walking through gray slush, clutching shopping bags, their faces flushed red with the cold. Stores had holiday lights strung throughout, giving the streets a cheery glow. Hanukkah had passed last week, and Christmas was just around the corner. She had to remember to buy gifts for her roommates. Maybe before her flight in the morning.
As the doorman greeted her and her family, Shoshana realized suddenly that she was exhausted. “Being a superstar is tiring,” she said once they’d passed the ornate lobby in a flash of sound and faces, taken the elevator to their room, and flopped onto the gigantic feather bed. It was late, and outside her window were star-shaped ice crystals. A soft powder of snow had fallen, bathing the room in a periwinkle light. There was laughter on the sidewalk, someone ringing a bell for holiday collections, the honking of the street bus.
Emily jumped into bed beside her, and their mother wearily sat down in the middle of both daughters.
“Let’s order ridiculously expensive lobsters off the room service menu and