"Oh my God, Chellie. Are you still listening to that song?" My roommate, Dawn, stomped over to my laptop and slammed it shut. It was a stupid question because the song she was asking about was blaring from my computer's speakers, so obviously, I was still listening to it.
"Hey!" I tried to reopen my laptop, but she snatched it off of my bed and clutched it to her chest.
"Chellie, this is ridiculous. You've been in bed for two days. I know you're upset. But torturing yourself by listening to a song your ex wrote for his new girlfriend is not going to make you feel better. He's not thinking about you, so you need to stop thinking about him."
“Brutal, Dawn.” I grabbed my comforter and pulled it over my head. She tugged it down.
“No, you’re getting out of this bed.”
“Why are you doing this? You know what Mike did to me. My Instagram comments are a mess. Forget about my Twitter mentions. My manager is going apeshit… Just, please, let me be sad.”
“No.” She flopped onto my bed next to me and lay down, boring into me with her dark brown eyes. “Your job is sharing your life, right?”
I nodded. I was a social media influencer. I posted about my life, and I partnered with brands to expose followers to exciting products and experiences for a fee.
“Well, girl. This is your life. Share it.” She snatched my phone off of the nightstand. “You’re not the first person to get dumped. I’m not saying you can’t be sad, but pathetic is definitely not your brand.”
“Since when do you care about my brand?”
“Since you pay half the rent and utilities and have no other discernible skills.” She smirked at me.
“I thought you hated my job.”
She rolled over to face me and sighed.
“I don’t hate your job. I hate that you portray this ridiculous unattainable lifestyle that your followers think they can emulate if they buy the shit you shill. Your life is nothing like this.” She held up my phone. “And you kill yourself to pretend that it is. You don’t even use half the shit you post about.”
I sat up.
"That's not true. I personally test every product before I agree to post about it. Why do you think I won't post that diet tea?"
Dawn snorted laughter.
"Oh my God! That tea that gave you diarrhea?" She laughed again, and I joined her. "Weren't you at a party when it kicked in?"
"Yes. It was so embarrassing. I didn't make it to the bathroom in time. I had to throw away a Halston Heritage romper, wear Mike's coat and sneak out through the kitchen." Mike took me home, fed me copious amounts of soup, and sat outside the bathroom door for hours. The memory of the way he took care of me that night hit me harder than I thought it would. I leaned back into my bed and tugged at my comforter again.
“My point is that your look and lifestyle are unattainable for most people. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it, but you should be honest about how you got it. If authenticity and honesty really is your brand, start today.” She pointed to my phone before turning on her heel and leaving my bedroom, grabbing my laptop on her way out.
I heaved a deep sigh, got out of bed, and padded to my vanity. Jesus Christ, I looked terrible.
I washed my face, brushed my teeth, sprinkled some dry shampoo in my hair, ran a brush through it, and slathered my face with about twenty dollars’ worth of Le Oceanoa soothing gel moisturizer. I definitely looked better, but I topped off my no-makeup look with a coat of mascara, highlighting cream on my cheeks and a little bit of gloss. I took a deep cleansing breath, clipped the selfie ring light to my phone, and smiled.
When I finally chose the perfect sad but strong selfie, I typed a caption.
chelliewoods: Hey, loves! Today is another day. I'm still so sad, but I'm determined to not let my life be ruled by the decisions of others. You shouldn't either. Life has ups and downs, but don't let it get you down. Get up, wash your face, and take on the day like the warrior you are. But don't forget to moisturize!
BTW, New Year's is around the corner. What are some of your resolutions? I'm thinking about saving some money by canceling my @spotify account. (Winking face emoji) JK! Love you, Spotify! (Kissing face emoji)
#Breakupselfie #sadbutstrong #nofilter #nomakeup #allaboutmygirls #loveyourselfalways #laoceanoa #ad
I stared at the caption for a minute, feeling my stomach doing flips. My heart began to race. I hit the send button and squeezed my eyes shut. I sucked in a deep breath and slowly opened them. I stared at the post.
In fifteen seconds, I'd accumulated 146 likes. I refreshed again. 623 likes and a comment:
stacidances sooooooo pretty! (Heart emoji)
I refreshed again. In less than a minute I’d accumulated over 2,000 likes and more comments:
ester.jakes you look good, girl. I wished I looked that good after my breakup.
candi.martinez453 love you, Chellie!! (Cherry blossom emoji)
waist.trainr.427 Get snatched for Valentine’s Day!!! Use my promo code for 50% off. Link in my bio!
hollyhollywood killin' it, love!!!!
I kept refreshing. The likes and comments kept climbing, flooding my body with a warm sense of relief and feeling of purpose. Sure, there were a couple of trolls and assholes, but the ratio was definitely in my favor. I’d been staring at my account for over thirty minutes when my manager called.
"Hey, Brenda! What's up?" I put her on speakerphone so I could continue to scroll. 27k likes and counting. Thirty thousand likes in a half hour was high for me, and I guessed that's why she was calling.
"Don't what's up me. You know you should have cleared that sponsored post with me." She paused for a second. "But you're lucky because it's going viral and Le Oceanoa loves it. I’m getting calls and emails. Offers, girl, big ones!”
“That’s crazy! What kind of offers?”
"The Kick wants you to host their New Year's Eve Party. They're paying five figures, and you only have to be there for two hours. It will be a great opportunity for the world to see you back to yourself, and I can probably work in some good sponsorship opportunities: dress, jewelry, shoes, blah, blah, blah…"
“Bren, New Year’s Eve is in five days. I’m not sure…”
“You are ready," she said, accurately reading my mind. "It's been over a week, and yes, your boyfriend broke up with you but suck it up, buttercup. People break up in public all the time and survive. You want to be a celebrity. This is part of it."
“Okay.” I sighed. “I’ll do it.”
“And, Chellie,” she added. “Delete the ‘no makeup’ hashtag and tag the makeup brands you used.”
“But I didn’t—“ My words died abruptly as Brenda interrupted.
"Don't test me. I'm still visiting my family for the holidays, and there is not enough coffee or wine in the world to help me put up with their bullshit and yours. Fix it.”
“Fine.” I nodded and ended the call.
The Kick was a lifestyle and media website that was worth billions, and every year rented a five-star luxury hotel in a different city to throw their New Year's Eve Party. This year was New York, and I was chosen, at the last minute, to host with over a dozen other influencers and celebrities, each of us assigned to our sections of the party. Dawn was my date.
I was hosting the Female Empowerment party, which had Dawn rolling her eyes so hard I thought they might pop out of her head. The DJ was a woman, playing mostly women-created music along with serving pink cocktails. Admittedly, it was pretty terrible, and I would have bet my appearance fee that a man put this together. The word "female" was a dead giveaway.
The night was going well, and I actually managed to forget about Mike for a while. Every once in a while, someone would approach me to tell me how brave I was for going outside and that Mike will come crawling back. I doubted the truth in either of these. I pasted on smiles to cover my sadness and laughed to stop myself from crying.
Midnight came and went. I counted down to midnight and watched the confetti and balloons fall. Dawn even stopped babysitting me and let herself relax, enjoying about three pink cocktails.
About forty-five minutes into 2019, I whipped out my phone and took a selfie with the party below the VIP balcony as a backdrop.
chelliewoods Happy 2019! Love you all, you gorgeous warriors! Xoxo Chellie!
#HappyNewYear #LoveYourself
I refreshed. 125 likes. I refreshed again. 372 likes, and the comments started.
thotsrus omg! She doesn’t know!
Long.azz.hair OMG! These hair vitamins are the best I’ve tried. My hair grew 6 inches in 2 months!!!! Use my promo code for 25% off. Link in my bio.
Kimmitoo2 don’t let that man get you down. You’ll find someone better.
xena.gregg Damn, that ring is pitiful!!! You dodged a bullet, boo.
thirsttrapmike so you single, boo? Check your DMs, gorgeous. (eggplant emoji) (eggplant emoji) (eggplant emoji)
What the hell was going on? Ring? My heart started pounding. I opened my browser and searched for Mike. The first headline caught my eye:
Has Grammy-winning, former rocker Mike Duke, found true love just a week after ditching Instagram model Celestine Woods?
I scrolled, skimming the article until I saw the photo. It was a woman's hand that I assumed was Jane's wearing a plain thin gold band with a gold star. She apparently posted it in her private Instagram account, but someone must have leaked it.
There’s no way that’s an engagement ring.
That's terrible, even for Mike. But it was perfect for Jane. She would probably love a ring like that. The whole time I knew her, I don't think I've ever seen her wear any jewelry.
To the left of it was the photo I posted on Instagram the day before Mike dumped me. It was a selfie of Mike and me posing in front of Christmas gifts we’d spent the entire morning wrapping for homeless kids. Of course, Jane was there. It was her idea. I stared at the photo, scrutinizing Mike’s face for any clue that he was planning to end things. There was nothing.
Then it hit me.
Mike dumped me after a year with no warning. Now he's engaged to someone else. My chest felt like it was being crushed. My dress, my shoes—hell, everything I was wearing felt too tight. I wanted to escape, but it was too early to leave the party.
I signaled our server to bring me three pink drinks. I gulped them down and started to relax. I ordered three more. I remember the server lowering the tray on my table with the new trio of drinks, but I don’t remember anything after that.