She pushes her feet in to her shiny black Maryjanes. She walks from the bed to her door, and back a few times, like she had seen models do it on TV, attempting to get her feet acquainted with the sharp pains she is sure to suffer in just a few hours. But what pain? Vanity, after all, prohibits one from feeling such. Facing the mirror, she carefully applies cream on her ageing face. Noticing, again, her developing double-chin. Ugh. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow when finally she’d start losing those damned pounds. Then she pops Godiva in her mouth.