Backstab

I haven't been this mad since Coco Chanel didn't release her annual perfume winter collection two years ago. And now my husband Jake was CHEATING on me with some middle-aged, tom wearing, diner eating lady. The fact that this woman is probably originally from this town is saying something in itself. The only way I can wrap my head around this is by showing him we don't need him. I wouldn't call myself a huge art fan, but last year when I got a bust of Charlie, my passed King Charles Spaniel, I was impressed. Maria referred me to the best artist in town, Jamie Lewis. I promptly called him and received a visit four days later.

I wrapped my fur coat around my shoulders and I scurried to the answer the knock on the door. There stood a stocky man proudly holding a magnificent oil pastel painting. I gleamed with excitement until he asked, "how do you like it? I really made sure to exemplify your eyes, as you asked." I was in awe, Jamie held a beautiful 48x60in canvas of myself next to my two kids. The scene was inspired from a photo Jake took of the three of us on the beach in the Hamptons on a sunny July day. There was a huge pelican behind us in our all-white outfits.

I motioned for Jamie to come inside, pointing to the open wall ready for the painting to be displayed. Jamie and Maria began hanging the picture as I prepared gluten-free cookies for them, and a glass of champagne for myself. After they had finished we stood back, examining the newest addition that this apartment desperately needed. I couldn't wait for Jake to come home tonight to see himself missing from the huge family photo. I'm hoping it'll feel like a stab in the gut because what goes around comes around.