Read Online Wellesley Wives (New England Trilogy) by Suzy Duffy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Suzy Duffy
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position was secure. It always had been.
So what had Jack been talking about?
The girls? Popsy always worried about her daughters. Was Rosie happy? Why hadn’t Lily found the right man yet? Then again, what mother didn’t worry about her children? She’d once heard an old saying that “a mother was only as happy as her saddest child.” It was so true. Well, the girls were coming over for lunch, so she could talk to Rosie then and find out what was on her mind.
Popsy slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom.
She caught sight of herself unclothed in her full-length mirror as she walked the floor. It made her stop and have a look. She didn’t usually parade around the room with no clothes on because Matilda could walk in at anytime, and Lord knew if Peter walked in and saw her naked, he would get ideas for sure. It just wasn’t something she did too often. But it was Sunday morning, so Matilda was off, and she knew that Peter was at the office. She looked at her body—the body of a now fifty-year-old woman.
“Wow.” She sighed. “Where did all those years go?”
The bedside lamp didn’t give off much light, so she threw open her enormous blue silk curtains to let the daylight in. There was an elderly man walking a dog along the street, and he glanced up as if some telepathic male messaging system had told him that there was a naked woman opening her curtains.
Why in heck had he looked up just then? Popsy hid behind the swathe of silk.
Then she returned to the mirror, well away from the window.
She groaned. “I think I preferred the soft light.”
There was no doubt that time was taking its toll. She was still skinny. Popsy had always been slight, but her boobs had drooped—seriously drooped. They were like a couple of balloons that had deflated over time, and now they just hung on her chest. How depressing. She lifted them up, one in each hand, in the hope that they would somehow look a little re-inflated, but they still looked like deflated balloons, only now they were sitting on a shelf of sorts.
Popsy let them flop down again. Maybe Sandra was right. A little boob job might not be a bad thing. Then she looked at her stomach. She turned sideways to look at it from another angle, and she inhaled as much air as she could. The chest looked better with her lungs full of air, and the tummy in a little, but she still looked pretty old and leathery. She breathed in-out, in-out a few times to watch the result. It was slightly comical and mildly amusing.
“Better than getting depressed about it,” she muttered. “Come on, Popsy. It’s not that bad. Your pins were always your best part.”
She studied her legs, making them look as good as she could by standing on her toes. It helped. While they still had reasonable tone, she could see that varicose veins were protruding from her calves and inside her thighs.
“Those are new.” She groaned.
She was definitely going to get them done. That wasn’t even considered plastic surgery anymore. It was just “maintenance.”
Even with reasonable calf muscles, her legs had lost a lot of their definition and firmness, so they were pretty scrawny-looking. She tried to do the lunge thing that her gym instructor once made her do. It was kind of like a genuflection, only frozen in the halfway position. Popsy thought it might give her leg muscles more tone, which it did until she fell over.
Undeterred, she got up and turned around to study her backside by looking over her shoulder. Using the tippy toes technique again, she saw that it looked better. In fact, she thought it didn’t look too bad.
“Okay, I still have one asset in good condition.” She sighed, somewhat relieved. “There’s no doubt. Aging is nasty.” She gave up on the navel gazing and headed into the bathroom to have a soak.
She continued talking to herself. “Well, at least I’m still alive. Looking young isn’t everything. Being happy is.” Popsy thought about her lovely family
So what had Jack been talking about?
The girls? Popsy always worried about her daughters. Was Rosie happy? Why hadn’t Lily found the right man yet? Then again, what mother didn’t worry about her children? She’d once heard an old saying that “a mother was only as happy as her saddest child.” It was so true. Well, the girls were coming over for lunch, so she could talk to Rosie then and find out what was on her mind.
Popsy slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom.
She caught sight of herself unclothed in her full-length mirror as she walked the floor. It made her stop and have a look. She didn’t usually parade around the room with no clothes on because Matilda could walk in at anytime, and Lord knew if Peter walked in and saw her naked, he would get ideas for sure. It just wasn’t something she did too often. But it was Sunday morning, so Matilda was off, and she knew that Peter was at the office. She looked at her body—the body of a now fifty-year-old woman.
“Wow.” She sighed. “Where did all those years go?”
The bedside lamp didn’t give off much light, so she threw open her enormous blue silk curtains to let the daylight in. There was an elderly man walking a dog along the street, and he glanced up as if some telepathic male messaging system had told him that there was a naked woman opening her curtains.
Why in heck had he looked up just then? Popsy hid behind the swathe of silk.
Then she returned to the mirror, well away from the window.
She groaned. “I think I preferred the soft light.”
There was no doubt that time was taking its toll. She was still skinny. Popsy had always been slight, but her boobs had drooped—seriously drooped. They were like a couple of balloons that had deflated over time, and now they just hung on her chest. How depressing. She lifted them up, one in each hand, in the hope that they would somehow look a little re-inflated, but they still looked like deflated balloons, only now they were sitting on a shelf of sorts.
Popsy let them flop down again. Maybe Sandra was right. A little boob job might not be a bad thing. Then she looked at her stomach. She turned sideways to look at it from another angle, and she inhaled as much air as she could. The chest looked better with her lungs full of air, and the tummy in a little, but she still looked pretty old and leathery. She breathed in-out, in-out a few times to watch the result. It was slightly comical and mildly amusing.
“Better than getting depressed about it,” she muttered. “Come on, Popsy. It’s not that bad. Your pins were always your best part.”
She studied her legs, making them look as good as she could by standing on her toes. It helped. While they still had reasonable tone, she could see that varicose veins were protruding from her calves and inside her thighs.
“Those are new.” She groaned.
She was definitely going to get them done. That wasn’t even considered plastic surgery anymore. It was just “maintenance.”
Even with reasonable calf muscles, her legs had lost a lot of their definition and firmness, so they were pretty scrawny-looking. She tried to do the lunge thing that her gym instructor once made her do. It was kind of like a genuflection, only frozen in the halfway position. Popsy thought it might give her leg muscles more tone, which it did until she fell over.
Undeterred, she got up and turned around to study her backside by looking over her shoulder. Using the tippy toes technique again, she saw that it looked better. In fact, she thought it didn’t look too bad.
“Okay, I still have one asset in good condition.” She sighed, somewhat relieved. “There’s no doubt. Aging is nasty.” She gave up on the navel gazing and headed into the bathroom to have a soak.
She continued talking to herself. “Well, at least I’m still alive. Looking young isn’t everything. Being happy is.” Popsy thought about her lovely family
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