Madeline
Jenny fidgeted with the weights on the scale in front of her and audibly blew a breath out. One hundred and twenty-two pounds. Up a pound from last time she weighed herself, the day before. And two pounds up from last month. What was happening to her?
She stepped off the scale and looked into the mirror. She put both manicured hands on either side of her face and pulled the skin taut up a bit. Much better. Then released her hands resulting in a frown. She took a step back and turned sideways standing up tall and placing the manicured hands on either side of her body. The frown persisted.
Has it really been eight years? Eight years since she started her Instagram profile: JenVogue. She always thought the name was silly and a bit pretentious, but it’s how her fans knew her.
She chose it at a boozy brunch. Kim, Sam, and Rachel could not believe she didn’t have an Instagram yet and pushed her to start one. The name was one of many of the funny ones they joked about that day and it stuck. She posted a simple photo at that brunch and didn’t think about it the rest of the day. The next day she posted a workout photo. Then a bikini photo. Then a photo on a hike in Santa Cruz.
Within a month she had a thousand followers. Within six months she had a million. That is when the DMs started. Not just from fans, but from companies too. Various companies kept reaching out asking if she would endorse their products and they would pay her for it. She said, “yes.” Of course she said, “yes.” It started with free products, then a few hundred dollars there and a few hundred dollars here. Before she knew it, she had quit her job as a fitness trainer at Equinox gyms and started doing Instagram full time.
She hated calling herself an influencer. Isn’t that what kids say they want to be when they grow up? She hated calling herself a brand ambassador. It understated the amount of work that went into the posts she created for the brands. When people asked what she did for a living, she said she was a photographer. An admirable enough vocation.
She had endorsement deals with yoga studios, supplement companies, and clothing manufacturers. She made enough money from these endorsement deals to live on the top of Nob Hill in San Francisco, in a two-bedroom place by herself.
She didn’t even try to make this her career. She quickly learned what the people wanted and she catered to it. What they liked was her pretty face, with blue eyes and puckered lips, and her hourglass figure. The boys wanted her and the girls wanted to be her. But she was not so beautiful that her beauty was out of reach.
But now, at twenty-seven years old, it was not the same. New followers had stopped coming. Her existing followers dropped to below a million. Her recent posts attracted half the “likes” and a fraction of the “comments” they did at the peak of her career. “ Beat Yoga Studio” pulled out of the contract with her a few months ago because of the loss in followers and many other endorsements had followed. She was now left with endorsements for “Beano” and “Kmart Clothing.” She was sure they would pull out soon enough as well. She was not sure how she was going to pay for the relationship she had developed with her plastic surgeon. Which reminded her…
Jenny picked up her phone, scrolled through her contacts, and hit “call.”
“Hi, yes. This is Jennifer Keller, can I make an appointment? Yes, Botox, Juvederm, CoolSculpting, and what is that I am reading about ear pinning? Tuesday at 11? That’s perfect. See you then.”
Jenny had a credit card. She didn’t need to worry about making payments just yet. All she needed to worry about was getting more followers.
Jenny unlocked her phone and opened the Photoshop app. She imported the picture she took not ten minutes ago in her pink lace matching bra and underwear set. Thanks to Kmart.
She had become a pro at removing belly fat, enhancing her butt, and removing the blemishes from the weight loss medication prescribed by her surgeon which also gave her gas. She added a caption, “Feeling #fierce #KMartIsTheBest #Promotion”. And posted it.
A text came through on her phone and Jenny opened it. It was a group text with her BFFs.
Kim: OMG! Last night was so much fun. Brunch anyone?
Sam: I can’t believe I almost went home with that guy. Who am I? Lindsay Lohan? Mama needs a mimosa. I’m in.
Rachel: I need some grease in my life. Get me a cheeseburger, fries, AND a mimosa. I’m in.
Jenny: I wish! I have plans with my sister today. Kisses!
The truth was that Jenny didn’t have plans. She didn’t have plans the night before either like she told her friends. Jenny began to turn away the late nights out, the cheeseburgers, and the champaign she once used to fuel her powerful thighs. They now went to her belly and made her face puffy.
Jenny plopped down on her couch and opened the Instagram app that fueled her life. She scrolled, hit “like”, and provided a positive comment. She scrolled, hit “like”, and provided a positive comment. She scrolled, hit “like”, and provided a positive comment.
Jenny held her breath, checking the Kmart bra and underwear post she posted minutes ago. One like. No comments.
Jenny blew a breath out. She figured it was time for a break. Which meant it was time to hit the gym. Five miles on the treadmill and a thirty minute HIIT workout was all she needed to bust that pound back to where it came from. Then a Keto smoothie to break her intermittent fast and she would be ready to get back to work.
