Diary of an Ugly Duckling Langhorne, Karyn (reading rainbow books txt) 📖

of.

See, Audra, it’s all one!” And she cupped her hands

together, making them into an irregular circle.

“Your mind, your body, your emotions, your spirit.

When things don’t work here”—she touched her

head with a fingertip—“or here”—she touched her

heart—“it shows up here.” She lay both hands on

her stomach. “Or here.” She patted her behind. “Or

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even here.” The hands moved down to her thighs.

“Some people think you have to start at the head or

the heart before you can fix the body issues”—she

shook her head—“but I personally believe you can

enter the continuum anywhere.” She returned her

hands to her circle again. “You can start with any

one of them, and if you keep going, the others will

follow.” Her stern expression broke into a sunny

smile that made her thin face suddenly open and

approachable. “You’re doing great, Audra. Everyone

thinks so.”

“Great? I’m mad as hell,” Audra muttered.

“What’s so great about that?”

Julienne’s smile broadened. “It means you’re

ready for the gym. It’s a great place to work on

anger . . . and a few other things, if you’re so in-

clined.”

“I don’t want to hurt myself. I’ve been hurt

enough!” Audra sputtered, shocked by the violence

of the unexpected admission. “I mean . . . with all

the surgeries and stuff . . .”

Julienne stared at her for a long, silent moment.

“It’s going to hurt, Audra,” she said quietly. “I’m

sorry, but it just is.” She patted Audra on the arm, a

soothing sisterly gesture that made Audra long for

Petra’s presence so deeply, she had to swallow hard

to keep from crying. “You know my story, right? I

used to weigh almost three hundred pounds. You

think I don’t know about rejection? You think I don’t

know about hurt? Making it better hurts, too. But it’s

a different kind of hurt . . . and when it’s done, you’ll

be able to see the results. And feel them. If you’ll

just—”

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“Surrender to the process?”

She nodded. “It’s a circle, Audra. Your body, your

mind, your heart. Start changing any one of them

and you open the door for changes in the others.

That’s why I don’t put much stock in people who

criticize shows like this one. What difference does it

make if some people start with their outsides first?

They’ll get to the insides soon enough. They have to.

It’s—”

“A circle,” Audra finished. “Got it.” She rubbed

the still sore muscles of her belly and donned her

best Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady. “All right,

guv’nor. You gonna teach me to walk and talk and

act like a reg’lar laaaa-dy, you is.”

Julienne patted her shoulder. “No, that’s not my

job. But I can help you work that Reveal dress, girl,”

she said snapping her fingers like a sister. “Now, I’ll

let you hold off on abdominals one more day”—she

showed Audra a single skinny finger—“then it’s

over. We’ve got to work those muscles pretty hard to

see the kind of results you’re going to want for the

Reveal. It’ll also throw your metabolism into gear

and make it easier to drop the last twenty-five or

thirty pounds. Okay?”

No. No it’s not okay. I don’t want to I don’t want to I

don’t want . . .

Julienne must have read it in her face because as

added incentive she said, “I think you’ve got a shot

to win this thing: the money, being in the film, the

modeling contract, the whole Ugly Duckling she-

bang—”

“Okay,” Audra agreed. “Okay. Tomorrow. Right

now, I just want to hit the showers and—”

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Julienne rubbed her shoulder, in a gesture that

Audra interpreted as pride and support. “Sure, the

showers. But give me thirty more minutes on the

treadmill first.”

“Yeah, I can dig what she’s saying,” Art rumbled re-

assuringly into the phone. “I never thought of it

quite like that—that the mind, body and spirit work

like a circle—but yeah, I can dig it.”

“I thought you would,” Audra murmured. “Seems

like you should be here, not me.”

Art chuckled. “If I wanted to come on a show that

transforms you into a beautiful woman, I’d have

some pretty big issues, don’t you think?”

“But at least you know what they’re talking about.

I mean, all I wanted was to come here and get made

over. Try to win that Grand Prize package. The

money and . . . the part in the movie. I could even

get discovered—”

Art laughed. “Discovered? You mean like Lana

Turner in Schrafft’s drugstore?” Audra could almost

imagine his shaved head wagging from side to side.

“Money, I can understand . . . but discovered?” An-

other gale of booming laughter filled her ears. “You

wouldn’t really want that life, would you?”

“Why not?” Audra bristled. “You like movies as

much as I do.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to be in them.”

“I bet it’s great.”

“I bet it’s not. I’ve heard it’s really boring. Lots of

standing around . . .”

“There’s a lot of standing around at the prison,

too,” Audra shot back.

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“Touché.”

Audra considered. “You mean you really wouldn’t

want to be a film star, if you had the chance? To live

out your fantasy—”

“I don’t have those kinds of fantasies,” he said in

strangely seductive tone, and in an instant, Audra’s

mind went to a place lit by candles and strewn with

rose petals, and with Art Bradshaw’s long, powerful

body laid out a like a feast . . .

“Audra? You still there? I asked you more about

your workout today—”

“Lots and lots of abdominal work,” she said

quickly. “And lots of fat-burning cardio. I must have

walked the treadmill an hour and a half . . . and it

was just the first day . . .”

And she kept talking, keeping it easy and breezy

while the image of those rose petals and herself in

Art Bradshaw’s strong and powerful arms swirled

in her brain.

That night, she dreamed of him.

In her dreams, she covered his long muscular legs

and thick proud chest with kisses, pausing to suckle

his manhood with her lips. It was as long and strong

as thick as she would have expected from a man of

Bradshaw’s size and as she engulfed it in the cool of

her mouth, she heard him groan his pleasure as

though he were right there in the narrow bed beside

her. His breath grew