The Botox Diaries Read Online Free PDF Page A

husband of my loyal best friend, but I blush anyway. “And any guy who knew you had that fancy five-dollar waffle iron would propose on the spot,” he adds.
    “Give me a break. I don’t even think I want to get married again. Once was enough.”
    “Really?” he asks.
    I fiddle with a napkin. My great excuse for being the only single woman in the PTA is that I
like
being single. But Dan looks genuinely interested and I hear myself admitting, “I don’t know. The grass is always greener, right? I’m the one who left, but now that I’m on my own, all I can remember is the good stuff about marriage. So, yeah, in my heart of hearts I probably want someone to share my life with. Some dreamboat who’ll curl up next to me in bed every night. But, hey, I’ve been there, so I also know that the dreamboat probably snores.”
    Dan scrapes a last bit of maple syrup from his plate. “Do I sense a little cynicism there? Was the first time around so bad?”
    “Not bad. It had its moments.
    “So what happened? He snored?”
    I laugh. “Let me put it this way. We met on a beach at Club Med. I didn’t speak much French, and the only words Jacques knew in English were
Marlboros, bed
, and
You’re the most beautiful woman in the world
. You’d be surprised how far that got him.”
    “Not surprised at all. Sounds like a better come-on than ‘What’s your sign?’ ”
    “I probably fell for that one once, too,” I say. “But when it came to Jacques, I fell for everything. I was young and he was sexy. It was all so passionate. But five or six years down the road …” I stop and shrug. Why am I telling Dan all this?
    “At least you got that great kid out of it.”
    “Not even.” I stand up and start clearing his plate. “I adopted Jen right after we split. That was one of the big problems. I wanted a baby and Jacques
was
a baby. He didn’t want a family, so I left.
C’est la vie
.”
    Dan doesn’t seem to know what to say.
    “Hey,” I jump in. “At least my French got better.”
    “For that you could have gone to Berlitz.”
    I laugh. “That’s what I think every time I go on one of these blind dates.”
    “I’m so sorry, Jessie. I’ve known you all these years and I never knew the details.”
    “It’s okay. I don’t exactly broadcast it. Lucy’s probably the only one who’s heard the whole story.”
    “Lucy. Oh, darn.” Dan gets up. “Thanks for breakfast, but I’d better get back. The boys will be home and Lucy has to get to an appointment.”
    “For what?”
    “I don’t know.” He laughs. “Probably a pedicure.”
    First thing Tuesday, I’m walking through the kindergarten hallway at Reese Elementary School on my way to Fifth Grade Parents’ Morning and I’m already ten minutes late. But I can’t resist stopping to look at the collages tacked up on the bulletin board. They’re just too darn cute. The sign says OUR IMPRESSIONS OF SPRING , so I’m guessing this one puffy white cotton ball creation is an Easter bunny and not a melted snowman. Either way, it takes me back to when Jen was five and making these same funny, clumsy artworks. Can it be that Jen’s only eleven and I’m already nostalgic for lost youth—hers and mine?
    I sigh and hurry on to the gym where I grab a cup of coffee and wave to a group of moms who are chatting animatedly.
    “Jesse, come on over!” calls the ever-cheerful Melanie, who’s standing in the middle of the group.
    “I’ll be right there,” I say.
    I head across the room to where the breakfast goodies are—I jogged on the treadmill at six a.m. and now I’m starved—but suddenly Lucy comes rushing at me, her face lit with panic and her eyes popping as if she were being chased by a wild bull.
    “Are you okay?” I ask.
    She grabs my elbow and starts wheeling me in the opposite direction.
    “I need to talk to you.”
    “Well, I need a muffin first.”
    “Don’t go over there!” she says, in a loud whisper.
    I look longingly over at the pastry